A few years ago - when I was apparently being punished for being Satan in a past life - I had to ride the #14 OC Transpo bus to and from work. The #14 is commonly known (by me) as The Wacky Bus to Crazy Town, The Red and White Sin Shuttle and That Bus With All The Drug Dealers On It. Riding that bus regularly is about as comfortable as riding a pony made of razorblades and hate. I came up with a list of rules for the people riding that bus with me, which I have since lost. It made mention of the importance of brushing your teeth at least once a month and possibly showering occasionally.
Now, I ride the #7. Seven is half of 14, and it seems fitting that the #7 only sucks half as badly as the #14 does. I should also point out at least half the people riding the #7 with me at any given time appear to be employed, which is more than I can say for the #14. On that bus, I'm fairly certain the driver and I were the only ones with jobs that didn't involve poles, baggies or the job title Guy That Picks Cigarette Butts Up Off the Sidewalk.
For the most part, the #7 isn't a bad bus. No more than 15 or 20 minutes to get to and from work, and most of the people don't have actual stink-lines rising off them like Pig Pen in the Peanuts comics. However, motivated by an incident last night that involved a crazy (I hope) man "Air-Wanking" at me as he walked up the bus aisle, I feel it's important I come up with a set of rules for the #7.
1. Don't Air-Wank at me. For those of you unfamiliar with Air-Wanking (which is a phrase that, as far as I know, I invented yesterday) it is when one mimes the act of wanking, aka Jerkin' It.
2. People who sit on the outside-seat next to an empty inside-seat on a full bus are dicks. You think I want to sit beside you? I do not. But that old lady carrying the one little bag of groceries that would be nothing to you but is basically a sack of heavy rocks to her might want to have a seat. You are a selfish piece of shit, and I hope you get cold sores on your eyeballs.
3. Your kid is staring at me. Make that stop. It's important to note that if your kid is staring at me on the bus, chances are good your kid is not actually sitting on the bus seat. No, your kid is propped up on his toes, his back to the front of the bus, leaning over the back of the seat, while you check for text messages from the guy who's his daddy this week or count your pocket change so you can get a coffee at Timmy's or pick stuff out of your belly button that you may or may not but probably will eat. Not only is your kid creeping me out by staring at me (likely with snot bubbles popping merrily from his nose) but if the driver happens to hit the brakes really fast, your little baby-bonus cheque angel is going to spend every other bus ride for the rest of his life sitting comfortably in the disabled seating section. Then you'll have a disability cheque in his name that you can cash-in to buy cigarettes with as well.
4. No one cares. Doesn't matter what it is: phone conversation...what you did last night...what you're doing tomorrow night...how awesome the songs on your iPod are...that you missed your stop because you were like, totally looking at that like, cute boy...that your nose ring fell out...that you're drunk.......NO ONE CARES SHUT UP I HATE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU DRUNK AT 9:00 A.M.?????
5. No matter how hard you stare at my crotchal-region, you will not be able to see up my skirt. I'm not a moron. I know how to sit properly while wearing a skirt. I will not be giving you a Sharon Stone peep-show, accidentally or otherwise. This goes double for the kid who was staring at my Area while he was sitting next to his mom. That was extra-awkward for everyone involved, and I hope she beat your ass when you got home.
6. Please do not scratch your balls near my face. Sometimes buses are very full, and people have to stand up in the aisle. Sometimes when I am sitting down, someone will be standing right next to me, with their crotchal-region quite near my face. Sometimes those people get itchy in the balls. To those people, I say subtlety is an important skill, especially when it comes to scratching your balls.
7. Just because you're not getting off the bus doesn't mean I can't. I am truly sorry you had to sit next to me. Really. I'm more sorry for me than I am for you, but at least I'm sitting next to the window, loser. However, I have to get off the bus now, so please move. Seriously, get up. MOVE, ASSHOLE. Pulling your legs under the seat does not count, and I will step on you if I have to.
8. Why do you need a stroller that big? This topic came up recently when Ottawa City Council debated the possibility of banning strollers on the bus unless they could be folded up if more space was needed. I understand this debate, having seen some of the Humvee-stroller-hybrids people bring on the bus. You could fit five kids in one of these things, or, as is often the case, one kid and shopping bags from every clothing store in a mid-sized mall. And three boxes from pretentious gift shops. And a car. So, yes, even if I crack my ribs and collapse my lungs so I can squeeze by this monstrosity to get to a seat, I might brush up against it a little. I don't need you snarling at me with your freshly-painted bitch-red lips like I just dropped a rock on your baby's head.
9. Showers are not how the Devil gets inside you. Admittedly, not as many people on the #7 stink quite as strongly as those on the #14, but there are still a few out there. To those people, I say: TAKE A FUCKING SHOWER. I DO NOT CARE IF IT'S ONLY ONCE A WEEK, JUST DO IT. I saw an ad on a bus a few weeks ago asking people not to wear strong perfumes or colognes on the bus because it could bother other passengers. Quite frankly, I'd prefer having Drakkar Noir squirted directly up both nostrils over sitting next to Dirty McWaterIsPoison. I will obey the "no strong perfume" signs when I start seeing "wash your filthy self because you smell like wet socks and dog shit" signs. It's like sitting next to a rubber boot with a hole in it that's been walked through a manure pile.
I hate the fucking bus.
