When the Right Thing To Do Is...Well, what *is* the right thing to do?
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I was on the Q train recently, coming home from Manhattan. It was approaching rush hour, and the train was full, but not as packed as it often gets, when you find yourself sardined against your neighbor’s armpit, using them to hold you up because your hand won’t reach a rail. You know what I’m talking about, straphangers.
When the Right Thing To Do Is...Well, what *is* the right thing to do?
When the Right Thing To Do Is...Well, what…
When the Right Thing To Do Is...Well, what *is* the right thing to do?
I was on the Q train recently, coming home from Manhattan. It was approaching rush hour, and the train was full, but not as packed as it often gets, when you find yourself sardined against your neighbor’s armpit, using them to hold you up because your hand won’t reach a rail. You know what I’m talking about, straphangers.