I purposely buy an Express bus pass every month. I do this because it’s more expensive and there are typically more professionals commuting to good jobs downtown. The reduced punk-count and those who can’t afford cars is an appealing selling-feature to me because it means a quiet ride to and from work – perfect for napping and relaxing.
But there is always that one moron who thinks their life is oh-so important they absolutely must take that pressing call from the President. Seriously, no one wants to hear your one-sided, ridiculous conversation about your binge drinking weekends or your shitty relationship.
Remember the days when we ducked into discreet telephone booths to have private conversations? These drama kings and queens (and you know it affects both sexes) need everyone in their general vicinity to know that they’re important. “Hey, listen to me! I’m important because at this very minute, someone NEEDS to talk to me!”
I cannot believe the information these dim people dish out in front of scores of strangers. Addresses, telephone numbers, places of employment. In the words of Antoine Dodson, “You are so dumb. You are really dumb.” If you don’t get that reference, go to Youtube and look him up.
First and foremost: NO ONE WANTS TO LISTEN TO YOU! I love the nap I get to take following a long day at the office. It allows me to rest up and unwind before I get home, thereby ensuring I have energy to workout and go socialize. Your inane conversation interrupts that. It’s virtually impossible to relax while listening to some twit wax poetic about the dude she banged on the weekend. (To be honest, there is no way in hell any man’s wee-wee was remotely close to that grotesque woman to begin with.)
Which brings me to my second point…KEEP THAT SHIT TO YOURSELF! If you wouldn’t talk about these things in front of your Grandmother, don’t talk about it on the bus. Better yet, don’t talk about anything on the bus. Just sit in silence and enjoy the ride. The really unfortunate part is – I am a captive audience! I can’t get off until I get home. It’s like a one-sided episode of Jerry Springer. Or better yet, Maury Povich when he’s trying to determine the paternity of a child. You can’t stop listening, but the whole thing is just grossing you out and making you angry.
Lastly, please remember YOU DON’T NEED TO YELL! I know this is a difficult concept for some people to grasp, but let’s go back to kindergarten and learn about “Inside Voices.” If the guy six rows back is gob-smacked by your shocking revelation that while shopping at La Senza you found out you’re not really a B, but a DD, then you’re probably talking too loud. Also, see the previous points. Is this something you would like to grab the driver’s mic and announce to the entire Population d'Articulated Bus?
In summary, if your phone rings and you absolutely must take it, ring the bell and get off the bus. Otherwise, send the President to voicemail and pick up the message when you get to where you’re going, or you will be sacrificed first.
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