BUS STORY # 333 (Shorts 28: Other People's Shorts)

Bus Diary, Entry # 15, a photo by John McNab on Flickr.

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Sometimes I love the subway. Sitting across from me this morning was an old gay man with spiked, bleach-blond hair, reading a beat-up copy of Germain Greer’s “The Female Eunuch.” I smiled at him, he smiled back, and while I was putting on my makeup (tacky, I know, but evs), he said, “Good job, kid!” It kinda made my morning.

Posted on Facebook November 16, 2012, by Jennifer DeMerrit, via my daughter.

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Dave reports he was on the 17 in downtown Minneapolis when a young 20-something girl gets on, walks past the fare box, and asks if anyone has fifty cents. One of the other passengers digs in his pocket and comes up with two quarters. By this time, the bus is on the way to the next stop. The girl takes the quarters and heads back toward the front of the bus. When the driver reaches the stop and opens the front door, the girl exits! Dave and his fellow riders look at one another and just laugh.

From the story posted February 5, 2010, by Dave, in Bus Tales.

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Blue-black hair. Fluorescent lime green tutu over jeans. Chuck Taylor knock-offs. Hello Kitty backpack. Swears like the love-child of Lenny Bruce and Kathy Griffin. At a volume that threatens to rip the fabric of reality to tatters. She’s at the back of the ole 54 and holding court, as only a 13 year old can, regaling her pack with woes of hair dye and parental idiocy. I hop off at an early stop, and watch the wee shuttle to the water taxi. Choppy water, barking seals, pooping gulls, and even potential seasickness is well worth putting a body of water between me and this larval stage Banshee. She could molt at any second and I’d like to be as far away as possible when that happens.

Posted Nov 24, 2011, by Richard Isherman, on Bus Stories: Observations on Life In Transit.

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The public transportation system in this city upsets me: everything runs on time and regularly, nothing breaks, all the people on the buses and trains just sit there and mind their own business, nobody gets into fights, nobody has loud inappropriate phone conversations, nobody dresses in clothes that make you want to ask if they think they're in Disneyland, nobody you don't know tries to talk to you. I find myself continually asking, "what is wrong with all these people?"

Posted July 30, 2012, by Rangergirl, on What Happens on the Bus.

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The photo at the top of this story is titled "Bus Diary, Entry # 15," and is posted by permission of John McNab. You can see all John McNab's photos on Flickr here.