Memo to my fellow bus riders
Girl reading financial magazine: don't you go disdainfully eyeing my US Weekly like it's child porn. You may choose to fill your bus ride with empirical data and market trends, but I am fully entitled to spend these 20 minutes catching up on the adventures of Brangelina. This is America, bitch. If you don't want to look at Britney's rehab-exiting form on the cover of my magazine, LOOK AWAY. Better yet, find some suitable replacement for those cloglike mules that you're sporting. Yeah, I said it.
Man lurking over me with precariously balanced cup of coffee: if you spill that shit on me, I will kill you. Also, it's impolite to stare. If you can't find something to do, act seriously engrossed in the bus schedule like the rest of us do. I promise I won't do anything worth watching, unless the aforementioned spill occurs, in which case all bets are off.
Lady at 1st and Broad stop who always asks the driver if this bus is a 2: how can you not notice that it's the same driver every day and he gives you the same answer every day? Must you lurk in the bus doorway, pretending that you might get on the bus despite its non-2 status, only to storm off when you realize that this bus doesn't go to Madrona? GET A SCHEDULE. And stop making us miss the stoplights. I'm late enough as it is.
Loud cell phone talker guy: no, but seriously, nobody cares. You are a complete and utter loser, and no amount of talk of "executives" and "meetings" and "protocol" will convince us otherwise. If you were that important, you wouldn't be riding the bus, okay? Also: you are wearing white socks. I have never met anyone important who wears white socks. Go home, change the socks, and stop talking to your mom like you're taking a conference call. It's way too early for me to hate someone as much as I hate you right now.
Old lady who wants to chat: I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt, since I'm not sure you can even see the little white earphones weaving into my whafro. These little babies mean I don't want to have a heart-to-heart with any of my fellow bus riders. Not even about your gout, your grandchildren, where this bus goes, or my life story. I'll let you in on a little secret - sometimes I don't even have an ipod plugged into these bad boys. That doesn't stop me from shrugging helplessly and pointing to my ears when your kind tries to engage me in conversation. Take the hint, and talk to the weird muttering guy in the corner. He looks up for a little tete-a-tete.
Crackhead who just propositioned me: do I look like the kind of girl who sleeps with dudes she meets on the bus? Wait, don't answer that. Just, no.
ANNOUNCEMENT TO ALL: Tomorrow, I'm bringing a sharpie and adding "please wear deoderant" to the bus rules poster. I just have to figure out the spanish translation first.
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests