About two months ago, I started riding the bus almost everywhere. Mostly due in part to the fact that my car broke down, but also because I live really close to a LOT of bus stops. I am going to say that 95% of the time I love, love, love riding the bus. Most people are courteous, quiet and respectful. I can zone out on my way to work and still be safe (I was zoning out on my way to work, but in my car, it’s not as safe) and best of all, I don’t have to deal with I-25 at 5:30 in the evening. Seriously, I sit in the train and mock people in cars. “Look at you sitting still in your GMC Sierra. Oh wait, I was looking at you, but now I’m not because I’m so much further down the highway than you. Sucker.”
However, there have been a few infractions on some basic rules of bus etiquette, no, basic rules of common sense and human decency that have occurred over the last few months. I would like to take the time here to post some of these annoyances to clear the air about what is just, you know, “not OK.”
1. This is not the open air. It is a contained space. As such, your voice is louder than it was when you were talking outside of the bus. Shush it.
2. Related to this, I can hear your conversations. And I am a nosy little bitch, so I’m going to listen. Yes, sometimes I even turn off my iPod if it sounds really good. So, unless you don’t care that I know about your seventh herpes outbreak this year, maybe just save that conversation for a more private venue. Actually, no. I want to know about that so that I make sure never to touch anything you just did with your, dirty, dirty vagina.
3. Ride the bus drunk. Totally. I’m fine with that. It means you are not driving, which makes you somewhat responsible. Sure. It’s 7:30 in the morning and you are WASTED, but what’s important is that you said to yourself when you crawled out from under the bender you were under, “You know what, I am too drunk to drive this mattress. I should take the bus.” Here’s what’s not ok to do when you are drunk on the bus: sit next to me. Christ man, I could make moonshine from your sweat! Now stop wobbling your head around near my shoulder and sit near someone else. But make sure they are drunk too.
4. Stop staring at my tits. Yes. They are lovely. I like them too, but they are mine. Not yours. Put your hand down! Not. Yours.
And finally, the most important point I need to make.
5. The bus is not a bar. It is not a singles club. It is not a meet up. It is not match-fucking-dotcom. Please, for the love of God, STOP HITTING ON ME! No. I do not want to be in you adult erotic film, Mister Claiming to Own Your Own Adult Entertainment Business. You know what; does it really look like “$60 for thirty minutes” is the right kind of pick up line for me? I am in business attire for GOD’S sake. Sir, I am just waiting for the 40 line like all the other people that are now ogling me because you propositioned me so loudly they are now thinking about it.
And no, Mister French Guy Claiming to be Gay so You Can Talk About Titty Fucking and Then Grab my Shoes off my Feet Because you are “In to Fashion,” you cannot fucking grab my boob! This is the bus. This is a public place. You are DISGUSTING. Stop. Stop. Stop fucking massaging my hand. You know what, I don’t care if you ARE gay, you are creepy as fuck, now get out of my bubble and go take a fucking shower, Frenchie.
So, now that I’ve laid down these rules, I hope that they can be followed. Because if you break them, I’m going to start breaking colons.
That’s right. Colons.