I know you’re having a busy day, stranger that is staring at me while I attempt to open a giant heavy metal door. You don’t seem that busy to me. You’re reading The New York Times and drinking a seemingly delicious cup of joe, but do you think that you could pause your hectic life just long enough to assist me with opening the door? It would really make my day. No? You’re a fucking asshole.

Hello, yes, I need help lifting this stroller down the subway stairs. It’s really hard, and my neck and back are bothering me. I don’t want to have to ask for help. I will ask the next available strong looking man that passes by to help me take the enormous stroller down the stairs.

I don’t think I should have to ask him though. I wish I lived in a place where people were more aware of one another and had empathy.

Chivalry is dead. But so is empathy apparently.

I just want someone to hold the door for me, even if it’s the fucking elevator door. But a “real” door would be great too. Sometimes, I can’t hold my bag, the stroller and a water bottle and open the door. It’s just not feasible. I’m sorry, society. I’m sorry that I am overwhelmed with life.

But still, someone should really hold the door for me, especially if that particular person isn’t busy, and they’re staring at me blankly, watching as I am attempting clumsily to open the door. It’s not like I’m asking for money. I just want them to help me open the door, which I clearly cannot open.

It’s just a door for G-d sake!

The next time I see someone struggling with a door, I’m going to help that person. I swear, don’t test me, I will do it.

I will.






It’s a door.