Digging for Gold on the Bus

When you take the bus to work every day, you quickly learn how to choose a seat wisely.  However, this implies that there is an available seat for you to actually sit in.  About half of my bus rides are spent standing while trying to touch as little as possible, which becomes difficult because you need to hold on to something lest you fall onto the disgusting bus floor (I'm sure if that calamity does happen you're either minutes away from dying due to a slow and painful flesh-eating disease you just contracted or a hot shower).

I chose my seat very poorly this morning.  My decision process isn't overly complicated and it usually serves me well, but today served as evidence that you can't win 'em all. 

It goes something like this:

1. Are there any open seats in the back?  If yes, move towards the back of the bus (since that is what you are supposed to do instead of just plopping down into the first seat you see only to cause a people jam by the door).

2. Where would you have the most room?  The lady carrying her purse, her lunch, her laptop, her carry-on suitcase, and her boxful of God-knows-what does not bode well as a bus partner nor does the man taking up two seats.

3. Assuming this is your lucky day so far and you have an abundant choice of open seats with plenty of room to properly sit the whole way on the seat instead of only half of your one butt cheek hanging on...then you choose by an elimination process that I have termed "Who looks the most normal?".  (No matter the bus route or the time of day, it always happens that I am never one of the first few people able to get a window seat.)

The last criteria is the toughest one of all.  It requires lightning quick thought-processing time and reaction skills.  Tsk, tsk you say.  Judging a book by it's cover?  That's so not right.

Yes, it's not right, but when times are tough and seats are scarce, it's what you must do if you want a peaceful commute.  I've overheard many curse-filled arguments and witnessed pushing struggles because people are exhausted and cranky going in to work and being on a smelly bus that's always running late and full of assorted characters doesn't really help matters.  I thought I was exposed to different walks of life just by going to a public high school, but taking public transportation gives you a much larger variety and perspective.  I have seen my share of kindnesses happen on the bus too, but it's an extreme rarity...like the odd man out who might actually give up his seat for a woman.  I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen that happen and I've been taking the bus for seven months.

Anyway...for those of you unfamiliar with the bus's seating chart, there are typically four seats in the very back... one pair on either side.  Both of the window seats were taken, so I chose the seat next to the man merely looking at his phone instead of the man with music blaring from his ipod earbuds. He seemed innocent enough. 

I got my book out of my backpack and proceeded to read.  After a few minutes, I noticed his hand reaching up to his face out of my peripheral vision.  I didn't think anything of it at first until I realized that this wasn't a scratch and his hand was still up there.  He was blatantly picking his nose on the bus.  Not a casual wipe across the bottom of the nose.  I put my book down and fully turned towards him for a second to confirm my suspicion.  Yup, I was right.  I turned back to my book and tried to read but I was too grossed out to concentrate.  I looked around to see if anyone else was paying attention and I caught a death stare from another passenger.  Great.  I pointedly sighed but the man was either oblivious to my passive aggression or he didn't care.  I thought about sighing again, only louder this time, but then immediately shot that idea down in case he was crazy.  I didn't want him touching me and there was no escape in sight.  This seemed to go on for an eternity but in reality it was probably about thirty seconds....which, in my opinion, is an extremely long time to pick your nose (let alone pick your nose in public) and about thirty seconds longer than what is socially acceptable.

I looked at him again - oh wait, he has to stop and play with the mess in his fingers...ok back in the nose again - and I wondered when he turned into my toddler niece when I wasn't looking.  At least she uses a tissue if she must do the deed, and I've been a witness to this in the privacy/decency of her own home, not surrounded by strangers...and she's only three!  He's old enough to know better...he has gray hair (not prematurely gray either) and I'd estimate he's in his mid-fifties.  I feel bad if someone asks to borrow his germy phone later today.

I wondered if he thought he was invisible.  Yes, that's it...no one can see us sitting way back here in the corner of the bus and I can do whatever I please!  If that's the case, no one clued me in.  I could have used that tidbit of info so that I could openly sneer and roll my eyes when warranted by other passengers or the traffic instead of just looking mildly constipated in an attempt to be polite and keep the peace.

And before you start thinking that I am Miss High & Mighty... one of the questions my grandmother frequently asked me when she was babysitting my brother and me growing up was...

"What do you think you're doing, digging for gold??"

Sadly, the Penguins bus is not mine, but it's much prettier!