… to the man who sat next to me on the train this morning.
Your bag does not get a seat.
It doesn’t matter if there was a spare seat when you sat down, your bag doesn’t get a seat.
It doesn’t matter if you fully intended to move the bag if someone indicated they wanted to sit where your bag was sitting, your bag still doesn’t get a seat.
It doesn’t matter if your bag was carrying the crown jewels, or if your bag is your best friend and you take it everywhere with you and call it snookums, your bag still doesn’t get a seat.
No matter how many right-on ‘make poverty history’ bangles your bag might have been wearing it still doesn’t get a seat.
It’s a bag. This was rush hour. It has a perfectly nice luggage rack to sit in. Or it can sit at your feet or, if you want it to be really comfy, on your lap. It doesn’t get a seat.
And it especially doesn’t get a seat on the seat opposite me so that it looks as though I was the low grade moron who thought their bag should get a seat.
There. I hope that has cleared up any confusion that may have arisen.