Okay. I was riding the train this morning (I missed the 7:20… the 7:24… the 7:51… but managed to get on the 7:54) and there was a guy sitting one row up on my left. He had a halo of hair that was presumably fluffed up to hide the fact that the quantity of hair was quickly diminishing. But what caught my attention about this guy was that he was a tearer.

Not terror, but tearer. Occasionally we get these people on the train. They really should have their own special car. Or maybe they shouldn’t be allowed on the morning trains. Tearers, for those of you now anxious to know, are individuals who read the paper, find a catchy article and then make a big production out of ripping the article from the paper.

This is annoying. On any morning train, people are trying to get a few more winks of sleep or mentally ready themselves for the upcoming day. When someone loudly tears into the paper, you can see a few of the slack jawed, sleeping people on the train straighten up. “What IS this?” they all think. “Who does this guy think he is??” Suddenly the pleasant morning train ride becomes a nightmare. Nails on the chalkboard, if you will.

This practice also begs several questions. I know that our economy is a touch tight these days, but I am SURE these tearers can at least BORROW scissors from someone once they get to their desks. Is it that hard to carry ONE section of the newspaper with you to work? Is it worth sacrificing everyone else’s lives for one lousy article? I thought not.

There is something sacred about that early morning train ride. Something that transcends generations. My mother rode the train and she holds fast to the “silence in the mornings” ritual. Even cab drivers are hesitant to lay on the horn in the morning. So where do these tearers get off?

My recommendation for these fiendish individuals–wait until the 5 o’clock train. You can even drink beer and tear the crap out of whatever you want. On the 5 o’clock, no one cares. Talk, laugh, drink, play cards. Live it up.

But not on my morning train ride.