Buses.
Most people would look at me and go, "What? They're not scary. They're just like big cars."
That is a common misconception.
They are actually couriers of death.
My opinion, predictably, comes from childhood trauma.
Little Kate, in all her wide eyed innocence,
Was sent to sit in the back of the bus.
Of course, the teachers of her grade school, having a momentary brain lapse, decided that physics and science were the Devil's play and those who believe in it were being fooled by Satan.
So, ignoring Boyle's law of volume, they packed enough students to fill four buses into one.
As one can imagine, Little Kate was crushed in the deluge of children.
That is where Little Kate was trapped for the hour long bus ride to scenic Topeka, Kansas to visit the capital building.
Might I just say that being trapped in a scorching hot pressure cooker of screaming, laughing, farting children with violent car sickness and claustrophobia for an hour is the definition of grisly, monstrous torment.
If I am sent to hell for blowing Westboro Baptist Church to the sky [a necessary evil], reliving this day is what I predict will follow my death.
For all eternity.
I wouldn't wish a grade school bus ride this on anyone. Not even you, Justin Beiber.
Well, one would think that after growing up, hitting high school and puberty, the fear would diminish.
This is also a misconception.
Buses are still large, Twinkie-shaped death traps.
Given, you don't have to deal with the same issues as the typical, unfortunate grade-schooler, public transportation is no less menacing.
Reason Number One: Passengers.
When you ride buses, you encounter people from all walks of life.
Hippies, hobos, prostitutes, lawn-care workers, plumbers, cheerleaders, dentists. All of them equally horrible.
However the worst are those people with the shifty eyes––the ones you suspect have just snorted as much crack as Charlie Sheen in the past four years.
The ones that look like they just got out of jail three hours ago.
The ones who look like
Joaquin Phoenix...
They inevitably sit right next to you, their unwashed stench rolling over you like poisonous gas.
Part of you hopes that your nostril hair will be singed off, so you can enjoy the smell of burning hair instead.
There are also the "loud talkers" who either come with an equally loud talking friend, or are on their cell phone.
I kinda want to run these people through the shredder.
Are you deaf? Can you not hear yourself?
If this were a perfect world, this:
"LOL. OMG, Jennay! Didn't you hear about my totally awesome laser hair removal?!"
Would be shortly followed by this:
Not only would punching them shut them up, it would also turn them albino, so they will never be accepted in society and will have to live the rest of their life in shame.
Unless of course you're Johnny Winter, then you'll just be awesome and people will be pleased to hear you talk loudly on the bus, mostly because you're actually riding the bus.
Anyway... Another reason not to ride buses: Filthy.
Unless you're in a flippin' Greyhound bus, the quality is pretty grungy.
It might have to do with the people riding the bus, but still.
Cigarette butts, pissed on Scientology pamphlets, discarded Kleenexes.
Unsightly!
I'm a bit of a germaphobe, not like Monk, but I normally avoid going into places where one should probably wear a biohazard suit.
Last and most important reason buses make my insides feel like little crawling maggots: Emergency Exits.
How the hell are you supposed to get out of one of these things if it plunges into a lake or a turbulent storm swollen river?
Answer 1: The Roof Hatch
They're a good idea in theory, but does anyone but the bus driver really know how to work this thing?
If you're at 5'3", like me, you're going to wonder if you can even reach the damn thing, let alone know how to open it.
If the other two exits are submerged or damaged, and you're too short to reach the ceiling, should you just give up the ghost? Or hope a friendly water based life form comes to your rescue?
Frankly, that sort of uncertainty gives me the willies.
Answer 2: The Window Escape
For how long has that window been in there? How many years of filth have crusted over both sides?
How strong do you have to be to break the Gorilla glue strength crap that has welded itself to the panel?
And if you do manage to get the window out, approximately how fat do you have to be to get stuck, trapping everyone else inside?
Optimists would say, "Fear not! There is always-
Answer 3: The Back Door!"
This door is the one I have the most hope in.
It's bigger, closer to the ground, and easily accessible for silly short weaklings like me.
BUT. It's at the back of the effing bus.
Just thinking about that thing is bringing back horrific imagery of the grade school bus rides.
The panicked pile up, the nervous sweating, the nauseating shift of human movement.
I think, if I had to choose between paying for gas and driving myself somewhere or riding a bus. I'd probably just drive.
I would save myself the stress and the disgust.
Judge me all you like.
I'm a snob. I know it.
If you give me sparkling wine, I'll turn it down because it reminds me too much of Twilight vampires.
It's because you ride the bus.
This post has officially worn out its welcome and so have I.
Peace off.
