Patrick and Andy. You obviously both have big ass backpacks, and I have obviously hurt your feelings. Heaven forbid.

Let me clarify.

It’s really not all about you. That’s the bottom line here. When you or I or anyone has a big ass backpack on, we tend to kind of forget that it’s there, and sometimes we bump into people without even realizing it. If you swing it around on one shoulder and hold it under your arm, you at least know where it’s at. It’s hard not to realize you’ve bumped into someone then. And you should, of course, say “excuse me,” when you do. You would expect at least that much of an acknowledgment yourself if someone did the same to you. And, by the way, if you don’t have the strength to carry your backpack that way for a few minutes during your commute, get thee to a gym!

If the train isn’t crowded, don’t worry about it. But if it is, be aware of those around you, and take appropriate measures. That’s really all there is to it. I’m not a behavioral dogmatist. It’s true I believe in behaving yourself in public, which amounts to trying your best to treat people as you want them to treat you. That is a matter of principle for me. But there are infinite variations on that theme, aren’t there?

The point is that a little awareness goes a long way. A little empathy works wonders.

I detected defiance in Patrick’s declaration: “I will continue to wear my large backpack on the T. I have to bring books and a laptop with me from Beacon Hill to Northeastern everyday.” That’s very informative, Patrick. It’s a very Beacon Hill attitude, too. The entitlement mentality that Boston is world renowned for. Me me me! I live on Beacon Hill! I’ll do this! I’ll do that! I’ll do what I want and you can’t stop me! It’s my life! Don’t forget it! The rest of you are just an extras in it!

I can’t argue with you or your big backpack, Patrick. Just hope you don’t bump into me with it, is all I can say.

The ever-sasstacular Sassy brings up a very good point in her recent comment, about backpacks. She’s right that the issue is one that must be addressed post haste!

When I was a student many years ago in Rome, and later, as a teacher in Budapest, I noticed that the public transit system was self-policed, mostly by cranky old people. If you got out of line, they all ganged up on you. If you wore a big backpack, they would shout at you–”what are you doing? And good heavens, what on earth do you need such a big pack for? What have you got in there anyway? Get off the bus! Go on—git! There’s no room for you and your backpack both!” It was like that. Unless you have ever experienced the wrath of a mob of septuagenarians you can’t possibly understand how effective this was. I mean, once they start shaking their umbrellas at you, and swinging their shopping bags, you better run.

And it worked because in the old country old people have a kind of immunity. Especially these Eastern and Latin cultures that venerate mothers and grandmothers. Because, hey, even thieves, thugs and gangsters have nanas.

It’s the same as with children in most cultures. There’s almost nothing more abhorred in society than child- and elder-abuse, and with good reason. The fact is, the rules of fair play, which say it is not only unjust but downright villainous to pick on the helpless among us, extend even to thugs–in most societies. Whether ours will remain among them is a question.

Not only are our scruples about abusing each other publicly in serious decline, but we have done everything in our power in American society to eliminate the elderly from the equation altogether. By sending them off to the assisted living gulag. You just don’t see many really old people on the T, or out and about in general. And that’s a real loss to our public life, let me tell you.

So, lacking this, what is to be done about the backpacks? Well, that’s another one for the commuter’s rule book. Packs should not be worn on the back on a crowded train, of course. That’s just common sense. You can wear them on the platform, but take it off before getting on the train.

But of course, you know that. The real question is what to do about those who don’t. And it is an age-old question. That’s what I’m getting at here. When a bunch of old people, with the wisdom and moral authority most societies bestow on the aged, get on your case, you learn the rules pretty quick-like. And from there things run pretty smooth-like. But when there is no one that society says is wiser than you, why should you follow any but your own rules? And that’s where we are.

Alternatively. The T could put up posters with pointers for riding the T and helpful hints for keeping the peace in the underground. If the ads were catchy enough, had a cute little snarky slogan, manners might catch on, too.

In fact, I think the T needs a cuddly mascot. And the mascot would be on the posters. His name could be something catchy like Teddy T. And he could have a host of less appealing pals, all with catchy names like Bratina Rudevic who wears a big, bulky backpack, and bumps into Teddy without saying “’scuse me,” and Paddington Pisspants, who’s so high on glue he’s lost bowel control and is drooling on Teddy! Some, like Ugolino Uzi could brandish weapons. But Twitter the Sprinkle Fairy would always be on hand to diffuse any tense situations.