People You Meet On The Bus

One of the unalloyed joys of being me is the necessity of using public transportation.  Monday through Friday, I haul my carcass out of bed at four AM so that I can be physically present (important to define that) at the bus stop a few blocks from me.  Lucky me, too, because any other choice of house would mean me driving to what they call a ‘Park and Ride,’ or if you like cutesy shit, ‘Park-n-Ride.’  Brings to mind the term, ‘sit and spin.’

While the getting-to and coming-from bus stops is probably postworthy all by itself, I’ll save that for later, along with the descriptions of using the Metro Rail here, which can get sporty depending on where you’re going.  I spend $8 every day for the privilege of meeting a colorful array of people.  You might know one of them.  Then again, you might be one of them.

The Crowder – The Crowder will plunk down next to you, start arranging himself, and expand to fill his seat, part of the aisle, and as much of your space as possible.  He texts with elbows out.  Friendly heel-knocks, elbow jabs, and knee thumps remind you that he deserves his space and is willing to battle for it.  He uses his gym bag full of lifting accessories to batter his way off the bus at his stop.

The Princess – Takes her seat and parks her bag next to her to ensure her space.  Then Princess proceeds to primp by fixing her hair, adjusting makeup, and then using the rest of the ride to take selfies over and over before rejecting the 100 identical shots in favor of Number 101, which is then posted on some page for the world to admire.

The Five-Sense Experience – The one I always draw.  Normally a 6’7″ man with the body hair of a grizzly, he will crowd you by default because he can’t help it.  After that, you notice that he’s moist.  Even better, he’s winded and panting like a bellows, which offers you a chance to review his last three meals.  If anyone on the bus is going to fart, this guy will be the one.  You secretly suspect that he has a schnauzer trapped in a back-fat fold.

Mister Friendly – This guy believes buses are like social media, and you’ve just got a friend request.  Lucky you… or me.  This is the guy who will observe you nosed into your book, elbow you, and ask, “Good book?”  In spite of grunted one-word answers, you have a lopsided conversation about the weather, the local baseball team, the bus schedule, and Donald Trump’s taint, and how it probably has a comb-over too.

Lost and Confused – This person doesn’t even have to sit next to you to piss you off.  First, their fare card won’t scan, and they can’t make their crumpled, moist dollars feed into the meter.  Pocket change follows, and finally the bus moves.  This rider then looks anxious the entire time and pulls the stop cord for three stops in a row before hitting the right one.  Everyone chips in and offers directions – anything to shorten the ride this tool just made last ten minutes longer.

The Sleeper – this dude for some reason always wears a short sleeve button-down shirt and is ready to have his nap, morning or evening.  Lucky you, you’re his pillow as he starts to nod, bob, and then slump against you.  Even better, he has body odor that will remove wallpaper and is riding farther than you are.

I hinted at the start that the metro rail is worse, and I’m not lying.  The good news is, I rarely have to take that option and endure the stench of weed and BO from the flock of hipsters who believe public trans is ironic.  Lucky me.

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