The ways human beings interact with each other in a group setting is endlessly entertaining to me. And also very informative.
Today, for example, I chose a seat toward the back of the bus. You know, where the cool people sit. No joke, it was me, some guy who looked like the token bad boy (I’m surprised he wasn’t smoking out the window) and another guy who probably was just getting home from an all-night drug-enhanced party (he was passed out, yet very stylish).
A few stops along, I realized that the “Stop Requested” indicator was not working. Normally, when you want to get off, you pull the cord. The indicator lights up and alerts the driver. Sometimes, on the fancy schmancy buses, a freakishly sexy voice repeats the request.
From the back of the bus, I noticed that every time someone wanted to stop, he or she would pull the cord. And, every time, nothing would happen.
Again and again, they would try. One woman asked the guy across from her to try the cord on his side of the bus. Still no luck. One by one, every person on the bus pulled the frickin’ cord. And nothing.
It was as if each person secretly said to himself, “These people are so dumb. Obviously, if I try to pull the cord, it will work. Because I am amazing.” Just like in an elevator, when every person who gets on presses the "lobby" button, people believe that their magic touch will somehow speed up the process. It doesn't.
Get over yourselves, people! The cord is broken!
June 29, 2007
Broken Cord
June 28, 2007
Crotch in Face
I realize that sometimes the bus is crowded. I realize that sometimes you have to squeeze by fellow passengers. I also realize that the center aisle on the average bus is not necessarily wide enough to fit two people, side by side, comfortably.
However.
None of those things are an excuse for shoving your crotch in my face.
I was innocently sitting in an aisle seat. I was listening to gospel music. The music of God. It was probably the most wholesome moment of my entire day. And then BAM. Crotch in my face. I looked up, my head tilted to the side, and WHOA THERE. Whoa. There.
To the man whose crotch I so intimately have come to know, I say this. Be aware of your crotch. Be aware that there may be an innocent young woman sitting, listening to gospel music, completely unsuspecting of what awaits her. Be aware that, although your crotch may be fantastic in other situations, this is neither the time nor the place to shove it in someone's face. In fact, the general rule is, let the face come to you.
Don't get me wrong, I love that area of a man's, shall we say, ensemble, but again, time and a place, people. Time and a place.
June 27, 2007
White Pants
My bus experience has taught me that it is never worth the risk of sitting down in a bus seat while wearing white pants. Please don't ask me to relive it. It's just never good. Never.
So today I stood. Standing on the bus has its benefits. For example, you are generally the first one off. You also get to feign the whole, "I'm so cool, I don't need to sit" thing. Look at me not falling over! Punks.
Balance on the bus, as in life, is all about the bend in the knees. If you're completely straight, unwavering and stiff, all it takes is one sudden stop and you're on the ground. However, if you maintain flexibility and you are open to the curves in the road, you tend to flow with them. Plus you just look cooler. I mean, really.
June 26, 2007
Cologne
It's no secret that men like cologne. It's also no secret that South American men, in particular, really like cologne. What baffles me is that a South American man, from my neighborhood, could be dressed in clothes as if he's going to build a house, or perhaps paint a house. He could be dressed in these clothes, yet he will apply more cologne than any man I've ever met at a black tie function.
One such man approached me on the 42 today. I was sitting down in a window seat, listening to some Counting Crows song on my ipod, and I got the whiff - the whiff of the South American hombre. I realize I'm playing into a stereotype, but, at least within the confines of the 42 world, it's true more often than not.
I know some people are bothered by this, but I'm not. To me, it's a very pleasant smell. And you know what it says? It says, I'm proud of myself. I'm proud of my life. I'm proud of my body. And I'm going to dress it up with a little fragrance. I don't care if I'm on my way to build a house. I care about how I smell today.
It's really a beautiful thing.
So this man approached me, and I said hello. He was very nice. We had a little chat. He got off at Dupont Circle. And his pride left me feeling proud to have met him. I also sneezed a few times, but that's ok.
June 22, 2007
Cab... or Lunch
Yesterday, I was running so late. Mom was in town and she had successfully distracted me with freshly brewed coffee, cereal and lots of hugging.
Even though I believe in the power of the 42 to decrease my commute by half (on a good day, no rain or snow, and provided the driver is not completely apathetic), there was no way I was making it on time. So I opted for the cab. Two zones, a gas price hike and a rush hour surcharge later, I was there. In New York, I bet that trip would cost maybe five or six bucks. In DC, try $10.80, a nice even $12 with tip. Jesus. Even a Cosi salad would not set me back quite that much. Good thing I got a delicious free lunch at work yesterday. I might have starved otherwise. Lesson of the day, being late in DC is expensive. Time is money, people. Time is money.
June 20, 2007
Top Gun Guy
Finally aboard the third bus that passed my stop (apparently everyone and their mother was riding the 42 today), I chose a seat next to a man who, at first glance, appeared fairly normal. He was in his 20s or 30s, dress shirt, decent pantalones.
Anyway, he had a briefcase. And he had an ipod. He was like every other guy who ever rode the bus. Until! All of a sudden I realized what song he was playing on his nano. It was the theme song from Top Gun. And it was loud. So loud that I instantly recognized it. Yep, without a doubt, he was totally rocking out to the Top Gun theme music. His leg was moving to the beat. He loved it. He was inspired. He was ready for another day.
So now, when life gets me down, and I have trouble motivating myself to get to work, I too will rock out to Top Gun. I live in Washington, DC, baby. And I have the NEED for SPEED. Ok, that's totally not me, but I appreciate the creativity in song choice. Thank you, Top Gun Guy. You go get 'em!
June 19, 2007
Smelly Bus
This morning was the haziest morning of the year, so far that is. I was all comfortable in my apartment, even with the small amount of AC I allow myself to use (it's frickin expensive). And then I stepped outside. Jesus Christ. It was like walking into a sauna. I decided to take the good 'ole 42 to avoid looking like a drowned rat by the time I got to work. You know I love the 42. It is a glorious bus. But when it's hot and sticky out, and it's crowded, let's see... how do I say this. People smell.
I was convinced that deodorant was invented by a passenger on public transportation in the summertime. He saw the need, and he addressed it. But, of course, I had to confirm. Turns out that deodorant was invented by someone from Philadelphia in 1888. It stopped odor by inhibiting the growth of bacteria. Sweat is not normally smelly - it's the bacteria under your arms that makes it rank. Ew.
Of course, it was the city of brotherly love that gave us this wonderful creation. Less smelly people = more brotherly love. People on the 42, please ponder.
June 18, 2007
Psychic Street Lady
Deep in thought (i.e., not paying attention) I took a different route home. I passed a psychic woman on 18th street, selling her palm reading services. I stopped. She said, in an accent I could not recognize, "I see something deep inside you. Come here! Let me talk to you." The pushy directive was not convincing, so I kept walking, although I did take her little printed advertisement.
FOR OVER 20 YEARS HAS SUCCEEDED IN HELPING SO MANY OVERCOME ALL OBSTACLES IN LIFE, LOVE, CAREER, HEALTH, STRESS, SUBSTANCE ABUSE, DEPRESSION, AND MORE. DON'T LIVE IN FEAR OR DESPAIR AND TAKE CONTROL OF YOUR FUTURE NOW.
Overcome "all obstacles in life?" That is quite the claim. Apparently street psychics have all the answers. And she sees something "deep inside me?" What, the Cosi salad I had for lunch? My inner soul? Blah.
Street psychic lady, you have nothing more to offer me than I can offer myself. Except for some entertainment I guess. Followed by a piece of jumbo slice.
And so it begins...
Today starts a new chapter in my blog. I've realized that what makes life truly interesting are the little things. Moments. Some funny, some sad and some poignant. Today begins a chronicle, a chronicle of observations. A listing of things that happen every day - to people like you and me.
