Tuesday, November 12, 2002

In my never-ending quest for

In my never-ending quest for things to feel superior about, I’ve done humankind the favor of memorializing my ten least favorite behaviors of bus riders, whose antics and foibles start and end so many of my days. 

In no special order:

Don’t stand in the aisle when people need to get past you to find some breathing room further back in the bus.  Lean out of the way or move back.  Dummy.

Don’t put your backpack on the seat next to you when the bus is crowded.  Put it on the floor.  Idiot.

Don’t get on the bus with a friend and choose non-contiguous seats when seats next to each other are available, and then lean way out shouting to continue a conversation that, had you sat next to your friend, would have been private and would not have impeded the passage of others.  Bastard.

Don’t leave your enormous mountain-climber’s/snow boarder’s backpack, laden thick and heavy, strapped to your back on a crowded bus.  It pokes people and takes up too much room.  Put it between your feet.  Chowderhead.

Don’t just loiter in front of a door or in the doorwell.  That’s for people who need to leave the bus, don’t make it harder for them to get out of my air supply.  Stand in the aisle with everybody else and keep the doorway clear.  Fuckwit.

Don’t fight to get on through the back doors while people are properly trying to exit the bus from the same door.  As a sage friend lately reiterated, getting off has first dibs.  Yes, *especially* on public conveyances.  Jerkoff.

Don’t play your personal audio device so loudly that you can’t tell that people need you to get out of the way.  You have to pay some modicum of attention to the rest of us when you are on the bus, so if your new brittany-christina mix engages your attention too intensely, you need to adjust your volume or your priorities.  Cretin.

If you have to carry prepared food on the bus, you have my sympathy.  But for god’s sake don’t eat your stinky supper there in front of me.  It smells, makes a mess, and your greasy fingers will smear the poles that innocents like me have to grab when the bus lurches suddenly.  Eat on the street, not on the bus.  Clodhopper.

Don’t leave a mess.  Of any kind.  Newspapers can be neatly folded if you want them to be available to other riders, but the bus is no place to leave your old tissues, cracker crumbs, plucked eyebrows and clipped cuticles, all that crap you’ve gotten rid of.  It stinks and takes up room.  Shatterpate. 

Don’t engage the loonies in conversation on purpose.  They ride the bus, you ride the bus - that’s not enough of a nexus to justify such an irritation to the rest of the riders.  If they’re singing or mumbling to themselves, don’t interrupt them.  If they’re talking to you, try ignoring it for a while - often, it just looks like they’re talking to you but it’s their 8th grade gym teacher or a character from Super Friends.  Loonies can make a lot of noise and be very disruptive, and if they think people want to talk to them it can be hard to discourage them.  So don’t give them false expectations about our desire for conversation with the schitzophrenic wearing garbage bags.  Rube. 

Of course these ten represent only the primary concerns that have occurred to me in the past week or so.  Your amendations are warmly invited.  (Add to the list if you’d like.) But now I’d better get back to the office…