I ride buses all the time. Why? Because if I miss it, I can just buy a ticket for the next one and it’s not like throwing away a $100 plane ticket.
Not that I’ve done that before.
Of course not.
So why is it, then, that I always take the back row on Megabus? You know, that one right next to the “bathroom” that isn’t really a bathroom, it’s really just a room with sanitizer and a big bucket with a hole for your ass.
A hint of urine hangs in the air, and every time the door opens and closes the pungent smell of antibacterial sanitizer makes a beeline for my nasal cavity.
Yet, I continue to sit here.
For the most ridiculous reason.
Why is it you ask? Is it because I hope nobody will want to sit next to the bathroom, so I’ll always have a row to myself?
Ah, fille intelligente ! Mais, non.
La vraie raison est…because I don’t want the person who may be behind me to judge me for a.) my writing, or b.) my choice of television shows.
Yep. It’s true. I’m that absurd.
I also don’t like the idea that when I’m writing, someone could be right behind me reading over my shoulder.
Why doesn’t it occur to me that the people on these buses often curl up and quickly become unconscious?
Why doesn’t it occur to me that they don’t give a damn if I want to watch Gossip Girl, or White Collar, or Parenthood?
Let’s be real. I don’t know a soul on this bus, and they don’t know me.
But I keep sitting in this back seat. I keep suffering the aroma of piss all in the name of…what? Dignity can’t be it.
I always take Megabus. It’s a double decker, and so far, knock on wood, I’ve never had some weird Indian guy nodding off with his head on my shoulder.
That was Greyhound.
There’s also the time that little baby kept kicking the back of my seat.
Peter Pan Bus.
Or my ultimate favorite, the cell phone talker. One woman, I swear, had a full-fledged conversation from New York to Boston in the middle of the night. Seriously. In a very thick Haitian accent. I wanted so badly to turn around and tell her to shut up, but I couldn’t so I put my music in, as loud as I could handle and attempted to fall asleep.
That was my last time on Fung Wah Buses.
I really wish I could just fly, Boston to LaGuardia, for like $50. Flat rate. That’s a beautiful dream.
Until that dream comes true, I’ll just sit in the window seat, next to the “bathroom” watching Vampire Diaries.
I’m not ashamed to tell you.
Just too ashamed to tell the stranger sitting behind me.
Because THAT makes sense.
Ah, fille intelligente ! Ah, smart girl !
Mais, non. But, no.
La vraie raison est… The true reason is….