The long vine across my window reminds me of something bad that happened this morning. A woman with long, thick, hot hair boarded the train and left her mane resting on my bare shoulder and arm. I tried to move away from the hair, but the hair kept moving toward me. Tickle Tickle. Obviously, the backpack rule should apply to long hair: if you've got it in the back, please move it to the front. I don't want to wear your hair.