Updated on Friday, June 8, 2012 at 4:33PM by
Elena Taurke
My hips were already hurting as I was standing on the platform. I could almost feel the relief of the seat as I waited for the train…and waited…and… the desire intensified with the growing awareness of the delay, the imagined relief intensifying the pain. 
By the time the train pulled in, a crowd had gathered and I was terrified of the competition for seats. Naturally, there was exactly one seat in the car and the woman who pushed her way past me got it. In agony, I pondered: Was she disabled? My hips don't have a big sign on them and I'm not carrying any supports like crutches. Do I say something? What if she is mentally disabled and doesn't understand the subway protocol? If she gets angry and accuses me, do I understand her as limited or mean? What's the difference? Who deserves what?
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