I posted this on the Martian Cartel forum back in 2007 and for some reason never included it here. Either that or I am inept at searching my own blog. If it is actually here, think of this as a summer rerun rather than an accidental repeat.
As context , in 2007 I took the bus daily to work and in fact have had to do so for nearly every job I’ve had in the last 20+ years. I have been on Vancouver area buses thousands of times.
I do not generally like the experience, as you shall see below.
A Salute to my Fellow Passengers
A salute to my fellow passengers! I bid you a warm and hearty hello, one and all. Especially…
Mr. “I’m wearing a backpack the size of Kansas and I am not taking it off.” Thank you for slapping me in the face with your backpack while grooving out obliviously to your iPod. Hey, that reminds me…
Thanks to Mr. “I like to share my music with everyone, even when I’m wearing earphones.” Yes, your iPod really does go to 11, just like the speakers in Spinal Tap. The Europeans don’t like it much but what do they know? They gave us Wham! The important thing isn’t that you’re going deaf but that I can clearly hear the words that accompany your horrible taste in music.
Ms “I like the exit but not for leaving!” Hey, look, the rear doors don’t have anyone standing there, so why not head over and block the exit? When people try to leave the bus, act surprised — every time it happens. Bonus points if you’re grossly obese and think that standing sideways makes a difference in letting people by. Hint: every side of you is fat.
Mr. “Mysterious Hygiene Practices”. Maybe you shower, maybe you don’t. All I know is I and your fellow bus passengers get to enjoy a strange and pungent odor emanating from your person, a piquant aroma that has a nearly physical presence.
Mr. “I peed my pants”. No explanation needed.
The young buck I call “Drinks too much, barfs a lot”. There’s nothing better than having the din of inane conversation interrupted by the hitching and heaving of someone who can’t keep down whatever he had with those 20 beers. Bonus points if it happens on a crowded bus, double bonus points if the bus is going downhill at the time and the stream of barf trickles along the floor to your feet.
Ms “I am having a private conversation, want to hear?” Not only are you giving yourself ear cancer on that cell phone, you’re also spreading your stupid to others by loudly sharing intimate or banal private conversations with everyone else on the bus. Knowing when and where you are meeting your husband for dinner is important to me, especially if I plan on stalking you later. Thanks!
The group collectively known as The Front Enders. The front half of the bus is jammed. There is no room to move, no room to breathe, no room to do anything except pray quietly that your car loan gets approved. Meanwhile, the back half of the bus IS COMPLETELY EMPTY. Tip: The back of the bus does not have cooties, rabid dogs, gang members waiting to rape or kill you, the plague, George Michael or anything other than A BUNCH OF EMPTY SEATS. Tip #2: Exiting through the rear doors doesn’t take any longer from the back of the bus since the doors are in the middle, despite them being referred to as “rear”. Tip #3: Get the hell out of my way so I can have the entire back half of the bus to myself. Thanks!
Mr. “I’ll pretend I don’t notice you when you indicate you’d like to take the seat currently occupied by my bag/backpack/Real Doll”. Yeah, I know you see me. You’re not fooling anyone. Jerk.
Mrs. “I’m old and demand a seat but I’ll go to the back of the bus and demand one there instead of one at the front that’s reserved for the elderly”. Except you won’t really demand it, you’ll just stand there and put on your sad face until someone coughs up a seat. Hey, at least you go to the back of the bus.
Mr. “I’ll sing”. Tip: In the shower no one else can hear you. AS NATURE INTENDED.
Little “The bus is my playground”. You’re an adorable little kid, full of energy and a zest for life. The world will beat that out of you eventually. In the meantime, all these bars and seats are like a big ol’ jungle gym to you. It’s even more fun to emit high-pitched squeals as you run to and fro. The best part is when the bus suddenly stops, you fall and hit your head and the squealing is replaced by shrieking. It’s only then that your guardian kind of notices you.
Mr. “I don’t hold onto my bags of groceries because I like to watch the contents spill out every time the bus goes down an incline of any sort.” I see you like oranges and Red Bull. Nice!
And finally, a warm greeting to my friendly neighborhood bus drivers, especially…
“The brake works better when pumped in short bursts, especially when the bus is crowded”. It’s a great way for me to meet people, smashing into them every time we get to an intersection.
Mr. “I can knock the bus off the trolley wires not once but twice on the same trip!” Then take a long time getting the poles lined back up. Careful…careful…oh, so close! You can do it. Center it, okay, good…careful, careful…oh, almost! Take your time!
Mr. “I could wait another second to let you board and even though we’ve made eye contact, I’m just going to drive three feet ahead to the traffic light (which is red) and ignore you, making you wait 20 minutes for the next bus.” (This happened when I returned from Seattle. Welcome back to Vancouver, chump!)
And finally, thanks to you, dear reader, for making it through my Annual Transit Rant, 2007 Edition. Maybe next year I’ll have a bike!
EDITOR’S NOTE, 2014: I did get a bike. It was stolen about one year later.
