In defense of the small cement man

I walked into the subway station this morning and could hear the train pulling in. Normally I wouldn't care and would mozy my way up and wait for the next train, but for some reason, today I felt the need to get on this train. Our subway station is elevated, so I couldn't just run down a flight of stairs. I booked it up the steps and got to the platform right at the doors were closing. The conductor who was hanging his head out the window saw me standing in front of the closed doors and we made eye contact and he gave a nod and I heard the ding of the doors opening. I assumed he took pity on me and was letting me in, so I began stepping forward as I turned my head away from him to look where I was walking. I had just enough time to see the door that I stepped into. My nose smashed into the window and my body banged into the metal frame. At this, the conductor did take pity and opened the doors for me. I spent the first few minutes of my ride seeing who was staring at me, checking for blood around my nostrils, and feeling for swelling on the bridge of my nose. When I finally got to the bathroom at work, the only trace left of this embarassing moment was the straigt vertical line of dirt down my face. Luckily, there are no black eyes or bruises.