Mystery Puddles and Other Unexplained Phenomena

So, there's a mystery puddle right in the center of the row with rivulets snaking out in all directions. It wasn't there when we left the station and yet, nobody is claiming ownership. In fact, passengers have their respective heads bent in studious denial, thus avoiding the few of us most affected swiveling our heads like the Exorcist to try to identify the culprit. The bottom of my bag has now become soaked in this unidentified train juice. I just shot a well-aimed eye dart at the guy two rows up on the right. He caught my gaze, flinched appropriately and then sadly shook his head. Okay, it obviously wasn't him, but I'm sure he has done something in the past to deserve the occular beatdown. We really need to establish a passenger-run P.B.I. outfit to investigate these claims as we all know the MTA has no more money to fund their own official one. At $300 for a monthly per person times millions of passengers plus shady accounting and change of regime every time they are close to being outed, its easy to see how they have no money. Soon Sally Struthers will be pitching us to pledge just $1 a day to feed our conductors, I'm sure.