When is it rude?

So I've been sick. And I'm not just whining here, because I've been really, really, wish-I-had-health-insurance-to-go-to-the-doctor sick. I had to take yesterday off of work, since I spent the night vomiting up all the phlegm I've been choking on since there pretty well wasn't (isn't) anything else in my stomach. Oh, that was a joy, let me tell you, to come back to work on Tuesday, hack up a lung, then begin the chameleon trick of turning various shades of purple, green, then blanching completely. I couldn't eat lunch, barely made it to five, then stumbled out of the building toward the train. I was lucky to get a seat on the A, but at the transfer, the train was delayed. I leaned against a pole , because God forbid they put benches on the platform and prayed with every inch of my body not to throw up, pass out and get robbed. Finally the train pulled up just as I'm contemplating sitting on the ground (I'm in a skirt, in a subway station -- this is NOT a place to sit on the ground). Ah, my lucky day, the train is packed full, I barely lurch onto it, I really didn't have much other choice. It was that or stumble topside in a strange neighborhood and pass out on a police officer.

If you've ever fought the good fight to not throw up, you know the complete agony I was in. Add to that a rocking train, no seat, the smell of too many people, and crowded heat. I know my face was completely white, I was trembling, sweat was dripping off my face. I was holding onto the hand rail with both hands, a death grip is more like it, and had my teeth gritted together. I barely breathed because if I started coughing I'd start throwing up. I stared at those seats, at the perfectly happy people in those seats. I just needed to sit down, put my head on my knees. That girl looks nice maybe if I ask her...the train stopped at Carrol street and the girl I'd been imploring with my panic got up and off the train. I didn't move fast enough and another took her place. If I'd had any energy at all I'd have killed her. At Bergen street I thought about getting off the train if only to puke against the wall, then miraculously a seat opened up and I fell into it. I made the last two stops with my head on my knees, moaning softly and choking back my coughs.

That was fun. But even more fun was going to bed at 7:30pm after managing to swallow two tablespoons of applesauce and one weak swallow of water. Oh joy of all joys when I woke at 10pm and threw up all over one side of my bed. Well, I felt better. Just good enough to get out of bed, take the messed bedding to wash out in the tub (really, not much was there, remember) grab a bucket and collapse gasping onto the cleaned air mattress. I will say this, those things are easy to mop up.

So I didn't go to work yesterday. After the whole episode on Tuesday I couldn't even get out of bed, much less dare to attempt a dreaded train ride.

But I'm here now. I feel much, much better. I managed a little soup, some crackers and ginger ale yesterday, and I've almost finished an orange today. I've also succeeded in getting a few tables and documents typed up for work and made some corrections to the thesis. All well and good. A colleague has even complemented me on how I've lost weight. Ha-ha. Thank-you, but I'd rather not use the so-sick-I-can't-eat method to lose weight. I'd rather run. When I'm better.

Finally, as to the title, I ask you, when is it rude to ask someone to give up their seat on the train?