01.05.01

A special hello to Bro! and Yo!, the two gangsta buddies who won't sit next to eachother on a bus.  Don't worry guys, WE won't tell anyone about your little secret! *wink*

If you're that scummy, heavyset Mexican-looking guy with the bloated left foot and the all-powerful pungent rot odor, thanks for not showing up on my bus for these past few months.  Have you seen a doctor about that foot? *wink*

01.15.01

To the two surf *butties* (whether you were heckling me or not): Your tattoo says "dude" and his says "sweet".

01.18.01

Two elderly women playing musical chairs from the rear of the bus to the front are interpreted by my peripheral vision as two trolls with bulging slacks slung over their shoulders.

01.23.01

A big fat Irish guy (picture the UPS guy from Austin Powers 2) is on the bus.  His portliness consumes most of two seats and there is the scent of french fries.  Is it him?  He's stuffing his face with something I can't make out in my peripheral vision.  I am afraid that if I look too closely he'll catch me.

01.26.01

There is a wallet wedged between the seat and the inside edge of the bus.  I contemplate looking in it (money?), but then decide against that, not wishing other people on the bus to take notice and just generally not feeling right about the idea.  I decide to bring it to the bus driver when my stop comes.  After I signal and prepare to get off, I shake the wallet and find that it is empty.  I leave it and feel odd for making such an issue of it.

09.15.02

A few collected stories:

A group of hispanic kids in their mid to late teens get on the homeward bound bus. One of them has a giant maglite flashlight and makes references to using it as a weapon.

There is this filthy, old, red-eyed wretch of a lady who ends up on the morning bus I ride. She has the stink of ages firmly about her and wherever she sits there are many empty seats around her. The stench is outrageous, so much so that I would think that it would be in the driver's legal rights to remove her from the bus.

At one point of my regular trip to work the bus goes over a bridge which has the Atlantic on the east. Facing out there and seeing the view has taken on multiple meanings. Some times I find myself in awe at it. Others, it's downright unbearable with the analogies I attach to it.

A woman sitting at the front of the bus is talking loudly to no one in particular. I remove my headphones and hear her saying "I don't like ## street. I don't like ## street." She does this about ten to fifteen times and all the while ## ST is fast approaching. The tension is incredible. Finally, we arrive and she says, "I don't like ## street, but I have to get off there anyway," and steps off the bus.

My depressing ride home night: As we get to my stop, I push on the bars to open the back door. To my dismay, the door isn't opening. I yell, "Back door!" like I've seen done many times before. The driver is yelling back at me in a thick accent and I can't make out what he's saying. I shove my way to the front and a dutiful citizen tells me that door won't open when you're pushing on the bars. This being a newer bus, it's back door was designed to operate in the complete opposite fashion from the earlier models. Fcuking hell.

09.20.02

Ol' stinky melt woman is on the bus again today. Somehow her kickin' super funk isn't riding along with her. I almost play with the thought of telling her that she smells nice today. As I prepare to get off at my stop, I get a scant whiff of the usual her. Blegh.

09.27.02 AM

The other day I thought about this time I had a little scare on the bus. I'm sitting in the back of the double section accordion bus on my way home (sit in the front you dumbass!) and this hispanic kid sits next to me. He looks anywhere from 18-26 and his breath reeks of alcohol. He's leaning awfully close to me and obnoxiously asks what I'm listening to. "Rolling Stones," I lie. Then he makes a comment about my breath. Fcuk him. The only satisfaction would be smashing your goddam fcuking face into the fcuking floor repeatedly. My stop comes and I squeeze out of the window seat. Before the back door closes I hear a bottle (thrown from the bus) smash on the sidewalk behind me.

I end up on the 'back door' bus driver's ride again. As my stop approaches, I decide to go out the back door and prove that I can walk out his stupid fcuking bus without making an ass of himself. I'm standing at the back, waiting for the door to open and nothing is happening. Then, yelled at me by many of the wonderfully disgusting fcuks on the bus (driver included) is, "push the bars!" Now, what the hell?