Nice Lady is a daily rider on my morning bus. She, by turns, either irritates or pleases me enormously. It all depends on how tired I happen to be at 7:35am when she gets on board and sits down. If I'm in a good mood, I'm happy to be seated near Nice Lady, where I can listen to her talk to fellow passengers and offer to hold the bags of anybody who ends up having to stand in the aisle when there are no seats left (Nice Lady's favorite thing to do, despite the fact no one ever takes her up on the offer). On mornings when I'm tired, however, I try to get a seat in the back of the bus instead, preferably next to Sullen Teenager, who is far less likely to try to engage me in conversation.
This morning, Nice Lady cracked a relatively funny joke and everybody laughed out loud, including me. Even Sullen Teenager, who is usually tuned out in the back seat with headphones blasting, cracked a little smile. Was it a joke worthy of an LOL? Probably not. However, it was one of those odd mornings when everybody on the bus was in an exceedingly and inexplicable good mood. I can never figure these mornings out -- they are as likely to occur on a Monday as any other day, a day when you'd think most people would be ill-tempered. And today, we were all abounce with joy, despite the fact we were crammed to the gills with twice the usual number of passengers, due to an earlier bus that went MIA.
In the afternoons, a crammed bus is, in short, a recipe for disaster. You want to know what Road Rage is truly like? Get on my single-length afternoon bus on a rainy evening and watch the competition for Most Emotive Scowl begin. But for some reason, a crowded bus in the morning is usually no big thing. Maybe it's because nobody is in a hurry to get to work, the way they are in the evenings to get home. Maybe it's because we're all fresh from our breakfasts and coffee pots, instead of exhausted from hours spent at our desks. I don't know. All I know is that mornings on the bus like this morning always leave me slightly confused and pleased. It's not a bad way to start a day, in other words. I don't get it. But I think I kinda like it.
p.s. Confidential to Nice Lady: Thanks for offering to hold my bag this morning. If not for the fact it weighed about 87 pounds and I was afraid it would crush you, I would've taken you up on the offer, just to make your day.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
Low-rise jeans -- Are they really for you?
As I was riding home on the bus last night, I suddenly realized that I hadn't noticed anything interesting yet. I mean, here I start this blog, purporting to be about all the strange, fascinating things I see every day on the bus, and I'm halfway home with nothing to say.
But then I saw her. Butt-Crack Girl. And I knew I'd been saved. You see, I hadn't noticed her earlier on because she'd been sitting in the middle seats -- the bench ones that put your back to the street instead of to the rear of the bus. But she was preparing to get off soon, and it was when she turned her back to me to put on her coat that I realized I had my inspiration.
Butt-Crack Girl, in case you haven't met her yet, is a member of the club an unfortunate number of women these days belong to. It's the club of people who wear low-rise jeans and shouldn't.
BCG turned her back to me and lifted her arms to put them in her coat sleeves. And I knew instantly something terribly, terribly bad was about to happen. Up, up went her shirt and then -- ugh! There it was! Butt-Crack Girl's butt-crack! Right there for us all to see! I thought, maybe, maybe it'll all be over soon. But, no, no, noooooo! She was having trouble with her coat! She was twisting and turning and shifting and all I could see was ASS ASS ASS. ASS EVERYWHERE! As far as the eye could see!
Now, all of you women who are wearing low-rise jeans, tell me this. Are you not AWARE of the fact your ass-crack is constantly being exposed? Or do you just not care? Or do you, god-forbid, actually think people see that and think, "Ooh, sexy!"? Because even if you think this has never happened to you since you began wearing low-rise jeans, I'm here to tell you it has. I see at least three female butt-cracks a week these days, and the women displaying them seem to be completely unaware that it's happening.
Back when I was a kid, pretty much the most horrifying thing that could ever happen to you would be to have your butt-crack be seen. We called it a "plumber's crack" and it would make you an instant target for weeks and weeks of mercilous teasing. I'm glad so many women today are confident enough to be willing to go outside wearing the most unflattering pants they've ever owned -- so confident, in fact, they actually think they look GOOD. But you women -- listen up:
I, and the rest of the modern world, am tired of seeing your ass. Put it away. And buy jeans with a higher rise. You'll look a hundred times classier. You'll look a hundred times sexier. And, what's more, you won't completely horrify and disgust the entire back of the bus when you shift around to put on your coat.
We who keep our butt-cracks safely stored away will salute you.
But then I saw her. Butt-Crack Girl. And I knew I'd been saved. You see, I hadn't noticed her earlier on because she'd been sitting in the middle seats -- the bench ones that put your back to the street instead of to the rear of the bus. But she was preparing to get off soon, and it was when she turned her back to me to put on her coat that I realized I had my inspiration.
Butt-Crack Girl, in case you haven't met her yet, is a member of the club an unfortunate number of women these days belong to. It's the club of people who wear low-rise jeans and shouldn't.
BCG turned her back to me and lifted her arms to put them in her coat sleeves. And I knew instantly something terribly, terribly bad was about to happen. Up, up went her shirt and then -- ugh! There it was! Butt-Crack Girl's butt-crack! Right there for us all to see! I thought, maybe, maybe it'll all be over soon. But, no, no, noooooo! She was having trouble with her coat! She was twisting and turning and shifting and all I could see was ASS ASS ASS. ASS EVERYWHERE! As far as the eye could see!
Now, all of you women who are wearing low-rise jeans, tell me this. Are you not AWARE of the fact your ass-crack is constantly being exposed? Or do you just not care? Or do you, god-forbid, actually think people see that and think, "Ooh, sexy!"? Because even if you think this has never happened to you since you began wearing low-rise jeans, I'm here to tell you it has. I see at least three female butt-cracks a week these days, and the women displaying them seem to be completely unaware that it's happening.
Back when I was a kid, pretty much the most horrifying thing that could ever happen to you would be to have your butt-crack be seen. We called it a "plumber's crack" and it would make you an instant target for weeks and weeks of mercilous teasing. I'm glad so many women today are confident enough to be willing to go outside wearing the most unflattering pants they've ever owned -- so confident, in fact, they actually think they look GOOD. But you women -- listen up:
I, and the rest of the modern world, am tired of seeing your ass. Put it away. And buy jeans with a higher rise. You'll look a hundred times classier. You'll look a hundred times sexier. And, what's more, you won't completely horrify and disgust the entire back of the bus when you shift around to put on your coat.
We who keep our butt-cracks safely stored away will salute you.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
The guy I hated on the bus this morning.
You know what one of my big pet peeves on the bus is? It's the guy who, when the bus hits "standing room only" status, thinks it's okay for him to stand in the stairwell for the back door. Sure, this is a comfortable place to be -- you can lean back against the sides of the stairwell there and can keep your balance pretty easily. I get it. I really do. And, actually, this is an okay place to stand as long as you are being HYPER-aware of the passengers around you -- especially the ones, like me, who are about to get off the bus. But you can't just plant yourself in there and not pay attention. Not unless you want to incur my wrath, Rude Boy.
When the little *ding* rings, the one that means someone wants the next stop, you need to move yourself out of the way so that I can use that stairwell. You need to do it well in advance of that stop, so that you do not delay me. If the bus is really, really crowded, of course, this is going to be next to impossible because there won't be anywhere for you to go. In that case, you are an ass for standing in the stairwell to begin with, because, well, what were you thinking would happen when someone needed to leave via that door? Were you thinking we knew some "Crouching Tiger" move that would send us gracefully flying over your head and out onto the sidewalk? Because, though I am lovely and smoothly-shaped, I am not a CGI-enhanced special effect. Much as I would sincerely love to be.
If it was the very last spot to stand on the most crowded bus in bus-crowd history, then, okay, I can see the need to stand there. In that case, however, please take note: what you need to do when it's time for me to get off is NOT attempt to flatten yourself to make room for me to squeeze by, because there isn't room for two people in that stairwell. And if I have to try to slink by you and your massively oversized, SUV of a backpack, I'm going to get peevish. No, what you need to do -- listen up! -- is GET OFF the bus, wait for me to get off myself, and then get back on and continue to occupy your ridiculous amount of space.
You, guy who was in the stairwell this morning with your iPod in your ears, your complete lack of fellow-passenger awareness, and your gigantic backpack? I hate you. And the same goes for you, guy who was standing behind him with your iPod in YOUR ears who also wasn't paying any attention to the fact people needed to GET THE HELL OFF THE BUS. MOVE IT, PEOPLE! MOVE IT!
Thank you, and welcome to Scenes from the Bus.
When the little *ding* rings, the one that means someone wants the next stop, you need to move yourself out of the way so that I can use that stairwell. You need to do it well in advance of that stop, so that you do not delay me. If the bus is really, really crowded, of course, this is going to be next to impossible because there won't be anywhere for you to go. In that case, you are an ass for standing in the stairwell to begin with, because, well, what were you thinking would happen when someone needed to leave via that door? Were you thinking we knew some "Crouching Tiger" move that would send us gracefully flying over your head and out onto the sidewalk? Because, though I am lovely and smoothly-shaped, I am not a CGI-enhanced special effect. Much as I would sincerely love to be.
If it was the very last spot to stand on the most crowded bus in bus-crowd history, then, okay, I can see the need to stand there. In that case, however, please take note: what you need to do when it's time for me to get off is NOT attempt to flatten yourself to make room for me to squeeze by, because there isn't room for two people in that stairwell. And if I have to try to slink by you and your massively oversized, SUV of a backpack, I'm going to get peevish. No, what you need to do -- listen up! -- is GET OFF the bus, wait for me to get off myself, and then get back on and continue to occupy your ridiculous amount of space.
You, guy who was in the stairwell this morning with your iPod in your ears, your complete lack of fellow-passenger awareness, and your gigantic backpack? I hate you. And the same goes for you, guy who was standing behind him with your iPod in YOUR ears who also wasn't paying any attention to the fact people needed to GET THE HELL OFF THE BUS. MOVE IT, PEOPLE! MOVE IT!
Thank you, and welcome to Scenes from the Bus.
Introduction
I've been a daily bus commuter for over a decade now. You see a lot of weird, interesting, or annoying stuff on the bus. This blog is going to be about that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)