You miss my stop, I kill you.

You know that moment on the bus when someone gets really fucking pissed and just starts beating the shit out of the bus driver because he missed his stop? Yeah...

Seriously, wtf.

When mom and dad fight...

My mother and father never really fought that much when I was growing up. Not to make you all jealous, but our family was, and still is, basically a big ball of love. However, I do recall this one time when we were at the dinner table and my parents were having an argument. I can't remember what it was about - I had to have been about 8 or so - but I remember feeling that tension. And it sure as hell wasn't something I wanted to be in the middle of.

Flash forward to 2011. I am 24 and on the bus. My face is buried in a book, as per usual. This serves two purposes - to expand my literary knowledge and deter strangers from thinking I am at all interested in speaking to them.

I happen to be engrossed in this particular book and am reading somewhat fiendishly. Thus, I am a bit jarred when a tough looking woman comes and sits down aggressively in the seat in front of me. She crosses her arm and sits in a position that makes me think she has one of those pissed-off "hrumph" faces on. You know? Like when you put a toddler in the time-out chair and they want to show you how not okay they are with that, so they sassily cross their arms, furrow their brow and punch out their lips? That's the hrumph.

Some lady across the aisle asks her if she is OK.

"Oh, I'm fiiiiiine! Just fine," she answers in a I'm-clearly-not-fucking-fine voice.

The lady then begins to ask the woman about herself - where she works, how she likes it, how long she has been doing it. Honestly, if I was pissed off, the last thing I would want to do is have small talk with a fellow mass transit user. Then again, that is usually the last thing I want to do regardless of my mood.

The woman is answering her questions, talking in a booming voice. Then, all of a sudden, she swings around in the chair, looks straight over my head, and yells, "You better not be telling any lies about me, you sonofabitch!"

Her face is beet-red and her smoker's teeth are barred at the "sonofabitch" that is apparently behind me.

Then, he pipes up, "Damn woman! I ain't saying anything about you! You're fucking crazy."

Meanwhile, I am starting to get that feeling that I had when I was 8 at the dinner table with mom and dad. Except that this time, "mom and dad" are an unfortunate-looking couple with bad grammar that comes hissing out through their only partially-full set of teeth. So yeah, it's different. But it feels the same.

All I want to do is get up. That seems like a perfectly acceptable thing to do. But then I am afraid that the lady will go off on me. She clearly has a short fuse, and I don't want to light it any more so than it is. So, I sit there and hope that is the end of it.

It's not.

The lady starts talking with the other woman again - very loudly - about what a deadbeat her ex-husband is, and how he doesn't know how to treat a woman, both in life or in the bed. Low blow. She continues on this tirade for the next couple stops. I can hear the man behind me mumbling things, peppered with multiple derogatory names for females.

The tension is rising. I am convinced that at any moment, she is going to turn around and go tribal ape-shit on him, or vice versa, and guess who is in the middle of it all? As I begin to make the decision that I will now and forever just stand on the bus so that I can move at a moment's notice, the woman drops her phone and it slides to the front.

The man thinks this is a laugh-riot and starts cracking up, slapping his knee to emphasize the hilarity of the situation. Imagine a farmer in the 30's, wearing overalls and chewing on straw with his three good teeth, just laughing up a storm. That isn't at all what he looked like (except for maybe the teeth part), but for the sake of dramatic imagery, just go with it.

Remember her short fuse? Well it burnt down and that bomb exploded. She marched right up to him (read: right behind me) and began slapping him on the head, asking what he was laughing about and what was so "damn funny." At this point, the driver decides to get involved by yelling as well.

I always find that yelling works 100% of the time, don't you?

Fortunately, we were just pulling up to my stop, making it acceptable for me to quickly gather my things and haul ass off that bus. As the doors closed, I could still hear the commotion.

When my parents fought that time, they finally asked us kiddos to please go to our bedrooms so that mommy and daddy could talk. Clearly, not everyone has the same courtesy.

Back from Hiatus

Well, not really. I just wanted to share this post from the ever-intelligent and hilarious, Eileen Smith, who pens the "In the Pink" blog. Check it. Subscribe to it. Reblog her stuff.

She recently wrote this post about the bus driver in Austin that was fired for refusing to drop off two women at Planned Parenthood (Some people need free birth control! Don't hate!) Anyhow, it had me doing the laugh-cough at my desk. 

You’ll be  happy to know that a bus driver who was persecuted for his beliefs has won a $21,000 settlement from the Capital Area Rural Transportation System in Austin. Edwin Graning, who is also an ordained minister (times are tough), sued his former employer after being fired for refusing to take two women to a Planned Parenthood clinic. He was afraid they were going to get abortions. Or contraception. Or a mammogram. Or a pap smear. Oh, please. Everyone going to a Planned Parenthood clinic is there for one reason and one reason only. To get a late-term abortion. Just for fun.
“I was put in a position and I was asked to participate in something I am strongly against,” Graning said. “That’s what caused this whole thing.” No, what caused this whole thing was your refusal to drop people off at their bus stops. Where will it end? What about the overweight girl asking to be dropped off at bakery: SIT BACK DOWN FATASS I’LL DROP YOU AT WEIGHT WATCHERS. This is exactly why I don’t take the bus. Like I need to be judged for my frequent stops at the state hospital.

http://www.inthepinktexas.com/dont-get-on-the-bus-gus

Come Fly With Me...

This next post comes from one of my best friends, the lovely and ever-so-charming, Kate Wallace. Kate is an IT travel consultant, and every time I call her to bitch about some crazy bus person, she follows up with an equally ridiculous story of a mid-flight occurrence. We kept joking that she should contribute to this fabulous blog, and she finally succumbed. So, here is her first post of (hopefully) many! Enjoy...

I’m an IT consultant. Before you ask me the jillion questions about what that means or what I do.. let me stop you because that is a whole other story that I don’t care to get into and what is really relevant is that I travel every week for my job. Every Monday morning I get up (not to mention, prior 5 a.m.), get in a taxi, go through security lines, get on a plane, have a layover, get on another plane, reach my destination, get on a bus to go to Hertz, get in my rental car and drive to work. Then, on Thursday afternoon I do the reverse (minus renting a car) and come home. And then I repeat the following week. This is a lifestyle unique to most which fosters unusual, sometimes wonderful, sometimes stressful, and sometimes downright awful situations. Although my blog post isn’t exactly pertinent if you take the name of this blog literally, because you sure as hell can’t request a stop on a plane and most people don’t consider flying public transportation, it is undeniable that you come across a surplus of interesting people - sometimes taxi drivers, fellow passengers, or flight attendants, just on the short (obvious sarcasm) “commute” to and from work.

As a business traveler, you become very accustomed to the lifestyle and sometimes even snobbish. I smirk when people say “This is the longest I’ve EVER seen the security lines at Austin Bergstrom”, snicker when people don’t know they are supposed to take water out of their bag or their shoes off before crossing through security, and raise my nose as I walk into the priority access security lane. There is also a lingo associated with it and a general competitiveness in chasing after every hotel and airfare point and status level. Think George Clooney’s character from “Up in the Air”. If you aren’t a business traveler, you may look at the lifestyle with intrigue and maybe even envy… In an ideal world it would be all about the free trips and the per diem and, surely, Mr. Right will sit down next to me on a flight and we will laugh and talk about our glamorous lives and live happily ever after. But, in REAL life, there is a crying kid behind me kicking my seat, a fat guy next to me taking up my shoulder space, and I look like shit because of weather changes and dry recycled cabin air. Let me give you a glimpse into the real life. Shall we call it something along the lines of Emergency Landing:  The Captain Has Turned on The Fasten Seatbelt Sign or The Un-glamorous Life of a Traveling Consultant or Aches on a Plane (These are getting worse by the second)….?

Oh and I would like to again preface this with the fact that I am an IT consultant with a finance background which means I haven’t taken an English class or written anything beyond a design or requirements document in six years. Be forgiving!

My first (and maybe only ever??) entry is about an event that occurred around a month ago. Boarding my flight to New York in Chicago, I found an aisle seat with enough bin space to hold my suitcase near the front and asked to sit next to an older, seemingly benign, couple, probably in their early to mid-sixties. Everything was “normal” and everyone boarded the plane. The flight attendant went up and down the aisle closing overhead bins and when she got to the bin across from us, it wouldn’t close – my suitcase was part of the issue because someone else who boarded after tried to put their big suitcase up there too. I knew it wouldn’t fit, but resolved to let the flight attendant take care of the shuffling of items. The flight attendant, a younger woman in her early thirties, touched my suitcase and asked who it belonged to and I said it was mine. She looked around and saw that the bin above me and the couple only contained a couple of coats and items that could be shifted to fit my bag. She took a coat out and asked who it belonged to. The man next to me started to stand up and said it was his wife’s and this is where it started to veer from normalcy. He grabbed the coat from the flight attendant and asked her not to touch his coat and said he would get it himself. He basically told her she would mess it up and get it dirty and started to go off about how him and his wife just saw the luggage that they checked get terribly damaged while looking out the window of the plane. First off, to be clear, neither of their coats looked like anything fancy or special, but you would have thought they were family heirlooms. Second off, it is protocol on Southwest flights that small items go under your seat and jackets should be held in your lap in an effort to fit everyone’s larger carry ons and roller bags. It really is what makes the most sense. In a normal world with normal people, the situation would have been over and the couple could have held their coats in their laps and we all could have gone on our merry way. But that would have been too easy.

I mean, having to hold their coats really put a kink in this couple’s day. They couldn’t let it go and really needed to fixate on this and started to work each other up. They went back and forth about it for a few minutes.. how ridiculous it was since they had paid an extra $10 for the early bird fare so they could have that bin space and then lesser deserving minions (I’m paraphrasing) took what they had paid for.. he even inspected her jacket and asked her if it was okay or if they got anything on it. Although he had been somewhat difficult when dealing with the previous flight attendant, the man took it up a notch, and as another male flight attendant walked past, he grabbed his attention and said “Can I ask you something?” and started to go on about the same stuff him and his wife had just been discussing about how ridiculous all of this was. You could tell he expected the male flight attendant to take his side on the issue and apologize for the other flight attendant’s behavior, but he said the same thing she did about the flight’s protocol and said he was sorry for the inconvenience. Meanwhile I think the older man’s wife was turned on by it all…I mean she seemed to have provoked the incident by fueling his anger in the first place. This was clearly a match made in Hell. 

THEN the female flight attendant from before came up and said “This is the couple who gave me attitude before” and the man next to me said “Oh no you don’t.. she’s the one who got all snappy with me” and then I can’t even remember what happened in between but he raised his voice and said “You guys are just HORRIBLE” and said a few expletives. The whole situation was very uncomfortable for me, as I look down at my book careful not to laugh (church giggles, some call them) or try to give a look of favor to either party. Unfortunately, and my main problem in most situations, is that on a plane you can’t remove yourself from the situation and I was literally in the middle of all of this. Moments pass and it feels like we should be taking off, then another man in a uniform gets on and walks back to our row and asks the man next to me if there is a problem. All of a sudden he is very obedient and cooperative, but then starts harping about the damn early bird fare and the mean flight attendants. The uniformed man says he needs to ask the pilot something and when he comes back asks the couple to come with him outside to discuss the situation further. At first they refuse.. the woman says “Oh no, we don’t have time for that,” and a few other things until the uniformed man said, “You both need to come with me or else I will get someone else who will make you come with me”. I got up and they left with their belongings. The situation didn’t really feel dramatic and most other people on the plane probably had no idea what was going on, but my heart was racing and I realized I was incredibly relieved I wasn’t next to that couple anymore. The woman behind me came in my row to get the window seat and we both got free drinks because of the occurrence, and we laughed about it together. They left their camera and we debating taking pictures of ourselves flicking them off, but decided just to turn it in to the flight attendant.. who knows if she actually turned it in? She probably threw it in the trash.

Although those people weren’t straight up looney tunes, it is surprising to see how much people can overreact. Can you imagine getting that angry over everything like that in your day? If that was the worst thing that had happened to them in a while then I envy their lives. Moral of the story: Don’t get sassy with a flight attendant or you will get your ass kicked off a plane.  No emergency landing needed here.. Enough drama occurred before the plane even got off the ground.

Screaming is not singing unless you are a member of an '80s hair band.

This next event did not happen on the bus, but rather by the bus stop. It was about 4:00 p.m. on a delightful Texas evening in November. I was sitting at my desk, jamming out to a little Bob Schneider and tying up some loose strings (i.e. anxiously staring at the clock and willing it to hit 6 p.m.). All of the sudden, through my headphones, I hear this....wailing. This is not completely unusual as my office is on Congress Avenue and the less fortunate frequently stand under my window in a Romeo-esque fashion, screaming the most ridiculous shit at the top of their lungs. Sometimes it's annoying. I usually get a kick out of it. But I peeked out my second story window, looked down, and there was no crazy to be found. So, I ignored it and moved on.

Less than a minute later, I heard it again. Someone was definitely scream-singing and doing it at a decible that hurt my throat by proximity. I looked out the window again and followed the horrid noise to a small boy (?) across the street with a guitar, just rockin' away. He was surrounded by a group of scraggly-looking, pint-sized buddies that were rockin' along with him. Several thoughts hit me at this point:

1. Surely his friends must be slightly deaf, because if my friend was singing like that, I would slap him/her and deliver the appropriate STFU.

2. Where are these childrens' parents? Seriously, they looked 12, give or take a few years.

3. How far can I throw my wireless mouse, and can I get enough upward trajectory at this angle to launch it over the trees and right at that kid?

I understand that Austin is the live music capitol of the world. I love that you can't walk two blocks without seeing some dude toting a guitar. But as we have learned from American Idol, most people are not musically inclined, and actually suck. And these "most people" are usually the ones you hear playing on the street. There is a part of me that feels bad for them. However, a slightly bigger part of me feels like grabbing that guitar and tossing it into Town Lake so that they don't have to waste their life on a pipe dream, and I don't have to be badgered into listening to crap. Your classic win-win situation.

Drunks love David Sedaris, too.

I'm on the ride home and the bus is crowded. This always makes me nervous. When seating is plentiful, people will opt to sit by themselves. Some will even put their belongings in the seat next to them without guilt because there are plenty of other places for other riders to sit. Why? Because sitting next to a complete stranger is awkward. However, when the bus is crowded, it is an inevitability that you will end up sitting next to someone. I always hope for a dashingly handsome young professional to come sit next to me and ask me about the book I'm reading. However, money doesn't grow on trees and hot men never sit next to me on the bus. In fact, hot men don't ride my bus. Ever. Crazy people, do, though.

We pull over at a stop, and this man dressed in a ratty suit slovenly makes his way onto the bus. All I can think is, "Please oh please do not come sit next to me." He of course singles me out and makes his way to the empty seat beside me. I am reading a book, and I hope that he does NOT ask me about it. He, of course, does. His question is carried through the air by the stench of malt liquor, that hits me before his words do. I answer without looking up, hoping he will get the hint. He, of course, doesn't. He tells me how he loves to read and he thinks that people don't read enough anymore. I agree with an "mm-hmm" and continue to read. He then tells me he is sorry to bother me. I guess he got the hint.

Less than a minute later, he tells me that he just finished reading a book and is looking for a new one. He asks me who my favorite author is. I tell him that I have a few, but my favorite is David Sedaris.

Well, guess what? That just so happens to be his favorite author.

Of course.

He starts talking about how great a storyteller he is and how he has an amazing way of telling mundane, everyday happenings in such a funny way. I agree with him completely, but I try not to look too encouraging. He tells me which of Sedaris' books is his favorite. That particular one is not my favorite, but I love it just the same. He begins to recount a particular funny story in which Sedaris talks about his brother, the Rooster. I love this story and have read it several times. At around this point, it occurs to me that I am having a conversation about my favorite author with a man in a suit. Partial fantasy achieved. However, said man is clearly intoxicated, and upon closer inspection, is missing a couple teeth and is balding. Further proof that God has an amazing sense of humor.

After discussing the greatness of the Rooster, the man tells me that he loves listening to talk radio. He asks me if I ever listen to The Moth podcast. I listen to The Moth almost every day, and if you don't then you should (http://www.themoth.org/podcast). As he continues to tell me about his love of The Moth, I begin to realize that I have a lot in common with this drunk man. We both love David Sedaris. We both listen to The Moth. We both live on the east side and work downtown. His prattle drones on while I am having a bit of a mental crisis trying to figure out what all this means. Is the universe telling me to lower my standards in terms of men? Am I just as crazy as this dude? Is he going to sense the connection and ask me out on a date?? Shit.

Finally, the bus reaches my stop and I begin to gather my things. He tells me that it was great to talk to me. He does not ask me on a date (there IS a God), but instead simply says, "Keep it real." I laugh, wave, and can't help but be amazed at how ridiculously real it is.

"Do you speak Vietnamese?"

It's the end of the day on a Tuesday. The clock hits 6:00 p.m., and I launch out of the office in hopes of catching the 6:02 p.m. As per usual, I miss the bus. So, I stand at the bus stop with my headphones in. I do love music, but that is not the real reason for listening to it at the bus stop. Having my ipod blasting is an avoidance mechanism above all. With my headphones in, it is clear to the surrounding public that I am not interested in any sort of interactions. If they don't get that and try to speak to me, then I am still safe because, "I can't hear". It's all apart of my meticulously laid out plan to avoid the crazies. Sometimes, though, it just doesn't work.

So, I'm standing on the corner and I see this man across the street. He is walking briskly. So quickly, in fact, that his every movement seems to be a twitch. From across the street, he makes eye contact with me. When the little man lights up on the crosswalk, he twitches my way. In my head, I am of course thinking, "Oh shit, he is totally coming to talk to me." Obvs.

He walks directly up to me, making it impossible to ignore him. I remove my headphones and listen to him. His speech is clearly disjointed and he says something about being an honest person and just needing a couple bucks. Usually I say no to people who ask for cash, as I myself am also strapped for cash. However, once in a while, if I have it on me, I will give it to the person. Do you remember that story from Sunday school where there is a beggar on the rode and everyone ignores him, and it ends up being Jesus (or something like that)? Well, I would hate to screw over the Son of God, so sometimes I give the crazies my cash. This was one of those times.

Usually the convo ends with the monetary exchange. This was NOT one of those times. Instead, the tweaking man asked me if I knew Vietnamese. You know, because so many middle class white girls do. I informed him that I did not. He then started to "speak in Vietnamese" to me. I put this in quotes because I know damn well that was not Vietnamese. I feel like I can say this with confidence for two reasons: 1. My best friend is Vietnamese, and after having spent substantial time with her and her family, I may not speak the language, but I have an idea of what it sounds like; and 2. This dude was CRAZY. And black.

I stood there and stared at him. He didn't stop. For like a solid 2 minutes. I even did the dodgy eye thing as a non-verbal to let him know that I felt uncomfortable. But the thing about crazy people is that they lack the capacity to pick up on non-verbals.

Finally, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the #20, my beacon of hope, streaming down Congress. I motioned toward my bus and said I had to go. He then grabbed for my arm and said, "You are a princess. A princess! God bless you!"

As crazy as he was, I couldn't argue with that. :-)