Fuck Public Transportation

As many of you know, my beloved sport-utility vehicle is still in the shop for repair. Fortunately, nothing of serious importance has come up to constitute the need of my vehicle, however, when the faint desire to transport myself does occur: I have the luxury of riding with my friends, because most of my friends worship me and will drop anything and everything to give me a ride. Until today.

The fates plotted against me this afternoon and I found myself without a ride to work. No big deal. I could always cab it. It’s about a 25 dollar ride to work, but that’s not really an issue. However, as I was getting ready, I had a novel idea. Seeing as I was a few hours early, I would take the bus. Yay for me. Public transportation is always an adventure, little did I know what I had just unintentionally signed myself up for.

I finished getting ready, grabbed a pocketful of change (I had no idea how much it cost to ride a bus these days), and headed out the door, whistling a merry tune in anticipation of my journey.

I got to the bus stop at the end of my street and waited. Did you know that it is impossible to look remotely cool while you are waiting for a bus. As cars passed by, I got the distinct impression that everyone in them was laughing and thinking “Look at that loser. He can’t afford a car.”

After a few uncomfortable minutes, the telltale rumbling told me that the bus was on it’s way here. It pulled up the curb and stopped, letting out a swishing sound like a giant beer can being opened. MMMMMMMMMM. Giant beer. I stepped onto the bus and was told it was 2 bucks. Not bad. 2 bucks. I turned from the little change box thingy, and hunted for a seat. A lot of people take the bus. A lot of really fat people take the bus. Maybe they can’t fit in cars. A lot of single mothers with crack habits and screaming children take the bus. Stinky people take the bus. I was taking the bus. God help me.

I took the only empty seat I could find, about halfway down the aisle. I sat behind a little old lady that smelled like cinnamon and cheese and in front of a fat bearded woman who wheezed when she breathed. I settled into the little plastic seat and prepared myself for my voyage.

The bus pulled away, and I tried to lose myself in the rolling scenery in the big window beside me. A few minutes later I heard a DING, and the bus pulled to the curb. Cinnamon cheese lady got up and went out the back door. At the same time, a very large young woman with a toddler in one hand and a box of chicken wings in the other got on the bus. They were both covered in barbecue sauce. The toddler had the flattering addition of dried snot gleaming off her face in the afternoon sun. They took the now vacant seat in front of me. Why is it that little kids insist on standing up on seats and offering an unwavering evil stare to the people behind them? Snotface was grinning at me, with her greasy, snot encrusted face, gnawing on a chicken wing like a rabid coyote with a mouthful of fresh Mexican. (Not sure what that means, I just wanted to type fresh Mexican). Every once and a while, she would sneeze and the gesture would force a small, glistening bubble of mucus out her nose. If she timed it right, the snotrocket would plant itself on the chicken wing in her hand. This, predictably, was followed by her EATING the booger basted bird. How appealing. It got better. The munching munchkin couldn’t finish the second wing she had grabbed and offered it lovingly to her mother. mommy dearest, unable to distinguish between baby booger and barbecue sauce, lovingly obliged by sucking the meat off the wing as if it were a magical penis that would bestow upon her youth and beauty. How appealing.

Another DING, and my chariot glided to the curb once again. Mother and daughter departed, only to be replaced by a large, hairy man wearing a belly shirt. Well, it wasn’t REALLY a belly shirt, but his belly apparently refused to listen. His scent was a cross between sour milk and urine with a hint of Beefaroni. Sexy. He sat down and the bus headed out again. I found that by sticking a finger in each nostril, I could almost eliminate his pungent odor. I couldn’t do much about my eyes watering though. Thankfully, we were quickly approaching my stop. My heart began to race. This was so exciting. As we neared my destination, regardless of the danger to my lungs, I inhaled a great gasp of air. With all the power I could muster I let out a hearty DING! Everyone looked at me, amazed at the melodious sound of my voice, powerfully requesting that the bus stop. It didn’t. It simply kept rolling along. Right past my stop. Then the next, and the next. I was trapped! I was trapped in a rolling aluminum box with fat smelly people and snot-eating babies! Where were they taking me? What would they do to me? Would they make me stinky? Would I be forced to eat snot glazed animal parts? I was in trouble. Perhaps the driver didn’t hear me. With no regard for my safety, I scrambled out of my seat WHILE the bus was moving. I ran to the front of the bus, and belted out an ear shattering DING! The bus driver hit the breaks, people screamed, the bus screeched to a halt, I lost my balance and ended up in the lap of Mr. Sourmilkpee. He awarded my landing with a toothless grin and a hard pinch on my ass. I jumped off of his lap and barreled headfirst into the doors, forcing them open and earning my freedom. The bus pulled away, as I lay panting in a heap on the sidewalk in the hot afternoon sun, grateful to have escaped. I walked back to work and tried to begin my day as always. With a smile on my face, and a spring in my step. Only today, I had a sore ass and smelled like sour milk and urine.

Fuck public transportation.