Public transportation
I've always been a fan, but some days really remind me that fucking crazy people ride the bus. Damn, lady, you could at least move at the way for a kid to walk by. Oh, and you, why not wait for the person in the wheelchair to situate themselves before pushing past? Mr. Can't-Stop-Laughing, please don't look at me. Mr. Pint-of-Cheap-Whiskey-before-Noon, please don't sit within five feet of me.
I also dislike those who, while on the bus, forget that it is a public, enclosed space and their speaking voices should appropriately correspond. It's awkward enough sitting right next to a man in his sixties working on a woman in her maybe-40s--ages here are actually inconsequential; I don't like to sit right next to anyone hooking up--but it's worse when the man has a speaking voice with a standard volume of YELL. I would prefer to read my book, but it's hard to ignore this man's life history when it's blasted into my ear. Did you know Colorado is not cold like Chicago or back East, but when it snows it then gets all sunny . . . people in the Philippines love rice and eggplant . . . he doesn't, though . . . his father was Cherokee and his grandfather worked in a coal mine in Virginia (not West Virginia) . . . "where do you live again?" . . .
Please, just stab me in the neck with this bus pass. It may take a while, but the torture will be slightly less excruciating.
Apparently I still work my mysterious magic, though. Here's a shout-out to you, Hector-the-Bus-Driver, with your line, "I hadn't seen you on this bus line in a while, so I switched lines in hopes that I'd see you again." Smooth. Must be the chain grease on my pants.
Kiswahili of the day: Afadhali nisome leo usiku.
It would be better if I studied tonight.
I also dislike those who, while on the bus, forget that it is a public, enclosed space and their speaking voices should appropriately correspond. It's awkward enough sitting right next to a man in his sixties working on a woman in her maybe-40s--ages here are actually inconsequential; I don't like to sit right next to anyone hooking up--but it's worse when the man has a speaking voice with a standard volume of YELL. I would prefer to read my book, but it's hard to ignore this man's life history when it's blasted into my ear. Did you know Colorado is not cold like Chicago or back East, but when it snows it then gets all sunny . . . people in the Philippines love rice and eggplant . . . he doesn't, though . . . his father was Cherokee and his grandfather worked in a coal mine in Virginia (not West Virginia) . . . "where do you live again?" . . .
Please, just stab me in the neck with this bus pass. It may take a while, but the torture will be slightly less excruciating.
Apparently I still work my mysterious magic, though. Here's a shout-out to you, Hector-the-Bus-Driver, with your line, "I hadn't seen you on this bus line in a while, so I switched lines in hopes that I'd see you again." Smooth. Must be the chain grease on my pants.
Kiswahili of the day: Afadhali nisome leo usiku.
It would be better if I studied tonight.