On their way in, one of the other passengers bumps into him and it confuses him. It didn’t look like it was on purpose. Still, he keeps thinking about it. What if it was on purpose, yet, cleverly disguised as an accidental bump? That seems like something that happens to him. Everybody is always annoying him and when he tries to complain, they always say it happened by accident and that it's not a big deal. This is just one more jerk trying to push him around. How dare he? Honestly, how dare he? It was so blatant.
He looks after the man and they briefly lock eyes. There! That look! It WAS on purpose! He knew it. What a giant jerk! What has he ever done to him? Although his suspicion is confirmed, there remains a feeling of helplessness. He doesn't know what to do. It appears that he simply has to stand there, swaying along with the movements of the subway, humiliated. He has to act like nothing happened. He knows that the man knows that both know that he has just been ridiculed. What frustration. He reaches his stop and rushes out the door. At home he keeps thinking about the offense he has been dealt tonight. He feels like now he has the evidence and he can finally scream, here, look, I told you everybody is a jerk to me! There is the proof!
The next morning, on the train, he sees the man again. At once, the rage which had subsided over the course of the night resurges. He falls quiet trying to make sense of what he’s feeling. He thinks about the resolves he made throughout last night--that he would get back at that jerk. The blaring of the conductor’s announcement at each stop in some foreign-accented voice aggravates him further. From time to time he glances at the man with a confident, piercing gaze trying to make him understand that he’s not afraid. Why did he get on my car again? Does he know I get on this car? Is he mocking me? He bumped into me, I did nothing, and now he’s mocking me for being a submissive idiot. He resolves that if that guy pulls another one of his shenanigans, he’s going to strike back--strike back with full force. This time he will take a stand and not let them push him around. He doesn’t care if he will get arrested. It’ll probably just be a felony. You would be surprised to find out how many people in New York have felonies against them. He’s not going to get fired for that. And even if, he doesn’t care, he’d rather be a man with a felony and without a job than a wuss taking the subway each day and being pushed around by jerks like that guy. You have to man up at some point in your life, take a stand, defend yourself.
Eventually, the man stands up to go out the door. His pulse rises and he begins to sweat. He is tense and ready to strike. A couple of jabs, a nice uppercut and he'll see stars. The man keeps walking past him and steps out of the car. Nothing happened. This time, he thinks to himself. He looks after the man as he disappears into the oblivion of the New York subway system. He is left alone with his anger. He wants to remember this feeling, take it home, and preserve it for the next time when he happens to see him again.