Wednesday, November 16, 2005

ten easy ways not to irk me on the bus. If you are a regular BlogCabin reader, you'll know that I spend anywhere from fifty minutes to an hour and a half of my normal day on a commuter bus. This is fine with me, usually; I pop in my ear buds, turn on my iPod, and disappear into a wonderland of imagination and pre-caffeinated thought. However, some of my fellow riders seem to want to go out of their way to make it a memorable experience for me. Sometimes this is lovely; I mean, I often meet interesting people, I overhear interesting exchanges, and I know that I've carved indelible images in my psyche from observing both their pain and their elation. Sometimes, however, it just sucks. I really can't believe how little in the way of manners some people have. It shouldn't shock me; after all, I was a Starbucks employee at one point, and they are known for being the most willfully cheerful receptacles for random angst in the whole wide universe. But come on, friends. Let's get it together a bit more. Let's show a touch of consideration. Let's not spill our open cup of coffee on the lap of our fellow commuter because we, and I quote, "don't like touching the lid with my lips." Sigh. Here, for the consideration of workday bus riders everywhere, are Meg's Ten Easy Ways Not To Irk Me (or Anyone Else) On The Bus: I am all for venting. I am all for sharing woes. If you need to tell me how you are, you go right ahead -- I can dig it. But please, please -- don't sit next to me and swear like a drunken sailor and tell me the gory details of your previous night out. A night that you only remember part of, due to a "bitch of a hangover". And especially don't tell me about the girl you met with breasts as big as... If you are going to eat something really and truly smelly, please do it quickly. And please don't offer it to me when my nose has not yet adjusted to the unique smell of your coat, let alone your sardine-laced somethingorother with extra Tabasco. If you have some sort of physical tic -- if you are a tapper, a wiggler, a stretcher, a fidgeter, a nodder, or a flailer -- please try and keep your erratic movements within your own space. I don't mind if you flail at me or tap on me occasionally, but if you move around so much you knock heads with me more than three times, someone is cruising to get duct-taped to the seat. If you have your child with you, please don't agitate them for the entertainment of the other passengers. If taking away their toy causes them to display a tiny mask of horror, very few of us -- besides the crazy guy across the row who is chewing on his hand -- are going to enjoy the moment. In fact, if you make your child cry -- and then laugh at them -- one more time, I'll make you cry. And I won't give your toy back, either. If your puffy jacket is so puffy that you cannot see over your own puffiness, maybe try taking the voluminous garment off before you sit down and puff all over me, too. I'm all for keeping you warm, but I don't want to suffocate in a downy cloud on my way to work. It just seems like such a silly way to go. If your personal listening device is no longer playing on a personal level, I'm going to need you to turn it down. Not because I don't like your Fiddy Cent or your Nickelbackevanescencelifehouse band-of-the-week, but because parts of me are jiggling in response to your teensy-tiny subwoofer. If you have one of those cell phone rings that makes me feel like I am standing outside of a dance club or listening to a gerbil die, it would be cool if you could answer it on the first, second, or third ring, rather than the fifteenth. If there are no seats left and we are forced to stand, it would be excellent if you could effectively occupy the space around you, rather than shimmying up so closely to me that I fear you are trying to take my pulse with your torso. I'm going to be blunt about this one: STOP SHAKING OUT YOUR NEWSPAPER IN MY FACE. IT'S 6:45 AM AND YOU'RE CREATING TINY FISSURES IN MY SANITY EACH AND EVERY TIME YOU SNAP OUT A PAGE. AND WHY ARE YOU READING THAT ARTICLE ABOUT SEXUAL DYSFUNCTION IN MEN, ANYHOW? I understand that how you occupy the space around you sends a clear signal of confidence to others. I know that most athletes sit with a very open posture: legs spread, arms open, core exposed. But seriously, can you just put your friggin' leg two inches over so that I don't have to go fetal in my seat? Thank you. Really. Well, that's that, then. I think I covered everything. It's just a matter of common courtesy, folks, not rocket science. I'm really not too picky. I just want to make it to work alive. 9:56:17 PM    well, yes, but...  []

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