Yes, I am going to squeeze myself into the thin space that separates you and the older, slightly ripe smelling, guy with the cell phone stuck to his ear.
No, your sighing will not deter me from being pleased with myself at taking this seat.
Yes, I do have a hacking chest cough, and yes, I am blowing my nose repeatedly with one of the two un-shredded tissues in my purse right now (I need to save the other one, just in case).
Yes, there is a good chance you will now have contracted the plague.
Yes, I am the stuff of well-put-together-20-something-year-olds nightmares.
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