I take public transit to work every day. I often take it home, as well. Once in a while, I'll hop on the bus—but more often than not, I'm underground, first on the Broad Street Line and then on the El. And my intra-city commute gives me ample opportunity to observe bad behavior.

And as I've mentioned on more than one occasion, SEPTA is like a hotbed for rudeness. Sure, there are those occasional polite folks who try to hold the subway doors for you, or who sacrifice their seats to the elderly or disabled. But for every one of those people, there are ten who pretend not to notice that your arms are filled with packages and that you'd probably benefit from the removal of their personal belongings from the seats beside them. Most of the time neither employees nor riders give much of a damn whether they're being assholes, as long as they get to where they're going. Even if it means you can't get to where you're going.

During morning rush hour, you can see this most clearly, especially if you're at one of the Center City or University City underground stations (Spring Garden, Race-Vine, City Hall, or Walnut-Locust on the BSL; all stops between 2nd and 40th on the El). On the one hand, it's as if all of the people getting off at their respective stops have forgotten that there are offices in neighborhoods other than theirs, and that some people may still need to get on the train to get to work. On the other, it's as if all of the people waiting to get on the train have completely forgotten that there are other people already on it, and that some of them may need to get off. It's as if we're all so concerned with ourselves that the other people don't exist.

But they do exist. And you're getting some seriously bad karma every morning on your way to work, and every afternoon on your way home, if you're like most of the riders we see every day. I know you're not bad people. (Well most of you aren't, anyway.) You're just not especially self-aware. So here's how to modify your behavior a little and ensure that everyone can get to where they're going during rush hour, and your karma will remain good.

If You're Getting Off the Train:
Congratulations! You're already more or less where you need to be. Sure, you may have a few blocks to walk, but the worst part—the part where you're actually on the train—is over. Relax. Take your time. When you're ascending the stairs toward the outside world, remember that there are other people coming down them, often quite quickly, to get on the train you just got off of. Step to the side when you see them barreling toward you, even if it means you have to stop walking for a few seconds. Don't meet them and have a staring contest to see who will move to the side first. They will miss their train, and it will be your fault.

If You're Getting on the Train:
Do not, repeat, do not, position yourself square in the middle of the opening doors, even if it doesn't look like anybody is waiting to get off the train. During rush hour, it's really hard to tell who's getting off and who's just standing because there aren't any seats left, so don't assume. Stand aside or take a few steps back so that the teeming masses exiting the train can be on their way, then climb aboard. There's almost no chance of your missing the train if you're not standing directly in front of a door, provided you're at least on the platform, and everyone getting on is leaving at the same time as you, so you're not accomplishing anything but douchebaggery if you're pushing your way onto the train before everyone gets off.

If You're Transferring Trains:
The transfer from the BSL to the El is probably the most frustrating thing I do every day. The one thing I constantly have to remind myself, and that I wish others would remember, is that the El comes something like every six minutes in the morning, so if I miss one, there's another a few blocks away. So when you're getting off of one subway line, don't plow through the other once-and-future passengers to race to the next platform. I saw a man very nearly push over a woman with a stroller while trying to do this. Not cool. Not cool at all.

If You're Driving the Train:
For the love of god, look out your window and notice the person frantically running toward you before you close the doors. SEPTA doors don't work like elevator doors and re-open when they detect something in their path. Ross and I got off a subway one day in time to notice a guy in a wheelchair get halfway on the train before the doors closed, and you probably would have pulled away with him stuck there, had some fast-thinking passengers not reached between the doors and pushed them open. I know you've got a schedule to keep and everything, but SEPTA never runs on time anyway, so what's another twenty seconds?

Photo of the station I get off at every day by Flickr user cw3283.