“So you’re pregnant — but what does that have to do with me?”

My wife is 8 months pregnant and she looks it. We live in New York City, with over 8 million people, but big belly and all she somehow becomes invisible when we walk on the street or take a bus or ride the subway. I become invisible too, even though I’m usually the only 6’2, 235 lb. Chinese man within a 100 foot radius. (Of course there might be another giant Chinese guy 101 or 102 feet away, but that’s too far for me to see.)

But this isn’t about me — this is about my wife, and how blind people are to pregnant women; and even worse, when people actually do see a pregnant woman, how rude they can consciously and purposefully be.

For instance: my wife and I are heading down into the subway, some girl sees us and has to cut in front of us. My wife accidentally clips the back of the girl’s heel and almost trips her (she didn’t do it on purpose, though the evil in me wishes that she had) because my wife doesn’t expect some bratty little twit to just jump in front of her while trying to go down the stairs.

You ask me, Bratty Twit is lucky she didn’t take a head-first fall and crack her skull open in the basement of 59th street. I’ll add to this example of rushed and self-centered stupidity the myriad ‘business men’ in their suits and ties blathering via Bluetooth technology because they are ‘so important’ that they have to speed up to walk in front of us; or on the subway, so self-absorbed in their Blackberry messages that they don’t even notice my wife’s belly hanging inches from their faces. Or maybe they are just so comfortable they don’t notice, and why should they care about my wife’s backaches or know that her swollen ankles and feet pulse beneath her?

And it’s not just ‘business men’ — it’s any adult man or woman (and teenagers too, because it wouldn’t hurt for them to know how to act as well) who just doesn’t care or acts like they don’t notice; or even worse, actually don’t notice and don’t think to give up their seat if they do notice.

For anyone who lives in New York or has visited, you know it’s crowded and people can be a little rude. But this is not — I repeat not — the general rule of the subway. I’ve lived in NYC for over ten years, and I can tell you that there is an unspoken code of ethical behavior that applies to mass transportation.

A few examples: 1) You don’t touch another person if you can help it — hands, fingers, knees, shoulders or otherwise — even with your bag or umbrella or whatever. 2) You don’t make unnecessary eye contact. 3) You don’t speak to someone unless spoken to (and usually that someone is a tourist asking you for directions so it’s a kind of public service). 4) If anyone breaks these rules you have every right to say something or at least give them a very dirty look.

See? It’s pretty simple.

One of my rules has also been to give up my seat to pregnant women, women who look tired, and old people. I’ll even give my seat up for small kids.

(I don’t give my seat up for other men, unless they are old. I’m not saying this is right or wrong. I just don’t.)

I can’t say that these rules make perfect sense or that I’ve always adhered to them, but for the most part I do my best. I hold doors open for people, and when I see someone with a kid in a stroller staring ominously up or down the subway stairs, I’ll ask if they need help. Because I like to think I have manners, something I think most people these days do not.

To avoid mining the depths of society’s degradation, I’ll simply assert that a big part of the problem is text messaging, and cell phones in general. Seems to me these days no one can be alone with their thoughts or just quiet for one simple second. Everyone always has to be preoccupied or in contact or communication with someone, something, even if that thing is a microscopic version of the internet (i.e. Blackberry, iPhone, what have you; I swear it’s a miracle more people don’t get run over in Manhattan each day.). It’s like, if you’re bored or not distracted or not acting like you’re important just for a split second, you’ll turn into a pumpkin. Which may explain how and why so many are oblivious to the idea of common courtesy as it may apply to a 5’2 obviously pregnant woman.

I mean, if you want to bump into me, fine — I’ve got plenty of padding, and I’ll just bump you back. More often than not I will get the better of this. But you can’t move aside or hold a door or give up a seat for a pregnant woman?

So with this avenging chip on my shoulder, I must admit that in the past month alone I’ve gone out of my way to knock a shoulder — or stick out an elbow or swing my gym bag — into more people than necessary, both with and without my wife around. Were these clowns a little too close for comfort? Yes. But were they also on their cell phones or texting or just so absorbed in their own worlds that they didn’t even bother to move? Yes. So chances are, even if they didn’t deserve to get bumped into by me, they probably did deserve it.

I’ll attribute my mildly aggressive lapse in manners to pre-paternal protectiveness. And if you ask me, had they been paying attention enough to just sidle six inches out of the way, they wouldn’t have gotten hit. Because I was paying attention as I made the conscious and purposeful decision: I’m gonna bump into this jackass. Followed by, If you were paying attention, you could have moved. But you weren’t, so you didn’t. Sucks for you.

So on this Father’s Day, as a father-to-be, I say to all those who walk on sometimes crowded streets or ride mass transit, “Look up. Put the cell phone away. You see a pregnant woman walking toward you, make way. Or get up and give her your seat.” And if you can’t manage that, then look out.

Because the moral of this story just might be: Watch what you’re doing and where you’re going, lest you get hit by a cab, or don’t notice the crane that is dangling over your head that may fall on top of you, or get jabbed in the ribs by my wife’s umbrella or elbow or get smacked below the belt with her laptop bag, or take a shoulder block or forearm shiver in the chest from an overly aggressive and protective giant Chinese guy.

Happy Father’s Day.