Trouble on the Bus

I won't be "9ing" it into work for much longer, but my ride this morning reminded me that I won't miss it At All. Even though my Original Bus Crush(TM) was on with me. I just ... the bus sucks. I took an early one so I could drop off my dry cleaning, and this girl got on at Broadway who I guess was totally psycho yesterday with the same driver, so he told her to get off. She would not. So the bus driver pulls over and calls someone up, and five minutes later, after idling there and wondering why the hell we weren't moving, some T security type comes to tell her to get off. She says that she's staying on the bus; they can arrest her.

Now it's interesting. Before I had no idea what was up. Finally she gets off and people cheer because she's just singlehandedly held up their morning commutes by ten minutes (at this point). As she gets off, Little Miss Jerry Springer, this trashy white girl, yells at the bus driver that she "di'int do nothin'" and calls him (an older black dude) a racist.

Apparently the day before, she created a scene and was inviting people to come to the front of the bus and fight her, and may or may not have spit at the bus driver either today or yesterday.

Ten minutes later, I was at my destination and shaking my head at the antics. Can't people just ride the bus in peace? Unless you're really offended by indifference, I can't imagine why the bus driver would piss you off.

Speaking of bus drivers, there's a really cute one that works on the 9 route at night sometimes. The other night, I was headed home around 7, and yay, I got on his bus. I got on at a much later stop than I usually do after work, so I just stood up front since I wouldn't really be in the way.

At the stop after I got on, this older, drunk guy gets on and just starts rambling away at me. First he asks me if I've seen Anger Management. I say that I haven't (I can't imagine why he asked this; it's completely unrelated to anything else he said later) and go back to reading my book. But of course, he's not finished.

He starts telling me about how he's having a bad day and that he's on his way to "The L" to work out (that's the Curley Community Center; I'm also a member, which is frightening). Never mind that he's noticeably intoxicated. But I digress.

Apparently the guy just broke up with his girlfriend a few weeks ago, and she's with someone else now (don't get me started on how good an idea leaving one guy and jumping into bed with someone else is), and New Boyfriend is hitting her, so this guy hears. He's just sick over it, which is I guess why he thought a stranger on the fucking bus would care.

Meanwhile, I notice that this Breckin Meyer-looking guy (but much cuter, although I do think Breckin is totally adorable) is sort of moving towards me and Drunk Guy. He looks concerned, which is kind of adorable and noble, and it really strikes me, because HOW MANY times have I been verbally accosted by some drunken asshole and no one even seemed to notice? If I had a nickel for every one of those times, I could get a sock and throw the nickels inside, and then no drunk freaks would mess with me, because POW, sock full of nickels in the face!

The bus driver's noticed, too, and it's like ... he wants to do something, but he doesn't know what to do, so he's just laughing quietly. And I start laughing, too. I am covering it up pretty well, but the whole situation and how damn LOUD this guy is talking about EXTREMELY personal matters ... well, it's ridiculous. What am I supposed to say to this guy?

Mercifully, my stop arrived, and the bus driver mouthed "sorry" at me, and Breckin II eased back in his seat. Drunk Guy? I excused myself and he started talking to the bus driver. "You just can't hit a woman, you know?" was what I heard him say as the doors closed behind me and I hurried off to find the sweet, sweet nectar of Winter Warmer and erase that event from my head.

While I'm sure his concern was genuine, I was relieved to get away. I mean, I just can't care enough to really offer advice when the person is drunk, up in my personal space (aka "grille"), or tells me that if he goes to her house, he'll go to jail for fucking up the douchey girlfriend-hitter. I mean, you don't know me! Why, why go on and on? But, such is the drink, I guess -- makes you tell your life story to strangers, whether or not they care.

Anyway, those are my bus tales for today. Tune in next time on Bostonia Rantida.