Why I hate Suburban Dad

As I head into my second month of the new job, I am realizing that the length of my commute home has little to do with train schedules, possible BART strikes, or weather, but instead one overriding factor: is there a Giants game tonight? Because if there is, Suburban Dad is going to slow me down.

Suburban Dad never takes transit, instead driving to work in his SUV and paying for parking. Suburban Dad, therefore, has no "commuter courtesy." What this means is that Suburban Dad, riding BART for the first time with Bored Wife and Anxious Kids (all in matching brand-new Giants hats they picked up at the mall), likes to stand in the middle of the train platform and stare at the map, too afraid to ask for help or directions, but apparently not afraid to block the way for others who know where they are going. Suburban Dad stands in the middle of the escalator, because it's a ride, right? Suburban Dad assumes everybody else is going to the baseball game and not trying to go home, and so stands in front of the turnstyle, fumbling for his unused ticket, instead of standing aside so people can get past him.

In short, Suburban Dad is a jerk and a nuisance, but worst of all, Suburban Dad doesn't know that he's a jerk and a nuisance because he's too self-absorbed to turn his head slightly to the left and realize there are other people on the train with him, people who don't give a rat's ass that he's using the firm's tickets with his family instead of clients for the first time in years.

Not that I'm irritated or anything...