Chrissy Snow

This morning started out as many do. With Wade and I picking different spots to sit. He pointed to a seat (that in hindsight would have been the better choice) near the back door of the bus. I was already seated in the highly coveted (by me) back corner. He grudgingly joined me, getting comfortable and settling in with his Blackberry and iPod. A couple more men sat on the back bench (which is less of a bench and more of a 5 ass cup set up). We were comfortable. All was well.

And then it happened.

A lady with a Chrissy Snow hair do insisted on sitting to Wade's right. Our ass cups were overflowing with her wide addition. Sure, I don't have the smallest ass on the bus, but come on. My first thought was that she was in no way shape or form good at parking a car due to her lack of spacial relations. Wade drew in a big exasperated breath (that she probably didn't notice since she had her back turned, ass pointed at her target) and moved over. Which forced me to move over more than I was comfortable with, which in this case was off of the carpeted plastic seat onto hard plastic. My ass was now suspended between the window and the seat. It was a jean clad pressed ham. My spine was also now in perfect line with the outer frame of the seat, which meant that every time Speedy Gonzales (our bus driver) gave a fast start and a hard break, my spine was knocked around.

Resigning myself to the worst ride into work this week, I started to notice a smell. A strange toast-like smell. But I wasn't having a seizure. Confused, I looked at Wade who was now looking at Chrissy Snow with the most disgusted look on his face. There clasped in her hand was half of a piece of toast, partially eaten. This toast had materialized from her giant pink purse. I am sure that had he not been wearing his ear buds, something would have been said about the chewing that was occurring in his ear. But, he just let out a long sigh and went back to his reading.

In an effort to ignore the pain that was beginning to creep into my back regions, I took a look at the other passengers who had just boarded. There, attempting to stand was a balance train wreck of a woman. She was attempting to do something on some sort of digital device requiring a stylus (it closely resembled a Nintendo DS). As she was starting to poke at her screen, the bus took off. She was clearly not ready and started to lose her balance backwards. But she was refusing to give up on the poking. She overcompensated and fell forwards, narrowly missing the pole with her face she was trying so desperately to cling on to while holding her device, at the same time. Ass forgotten, I began to laugh. Not really loud, but enough that Wade noticed and gave me a perplexed look. I shook my head, quieted down and listened to my music.

And the ride carried on with me and my pressed ham until the stop just before ours. The back of the bus completely emptied and we were able to move to the middle of the bench. My ass has still not fully recovered and I fear that no bike seat will be comfortable for me again.

Snow? Really? Again?

I am so happy to see that the city has no interest in keeping their Park and Ride parking lots cleared of ice and snow. Nothing like shoe touching ice and hoping that you don't wipe out while wearing business clothes. I am not daft. I do wear a running shoe with a grippy sole. But when the wind picks up and acts as a fancy blowy Zamboni, there is really nothing to do but slip and slide to the stop.

I have a theory that when faced with snow, city transit drivers drive slower than the norm in order to get their snow pay. Even when there are flakes falling and the street is wet, but not slippery, they continue as though they were pushing through snow up to the windshield. Couple this with the fact that drivers also happen to be completely stupid and panic at the site of the flakes. Thus my ride into work lasts on average 15 minutes longer than if it was summer.

The time it takes to get to work bothers me slightly less than the humidity in the bus. I get that people throw off a lot of heat in small gatherings. But to not be able to see out of the window due to a mouth breather sitting in front of me is a little troubling. This means that I am breathing in her second hand air. And the moisture is clinging to my face and hair like a deranged shower curtain. Worse is when someone with the worst BO in the history of man is also a passenger. Thankfully, BO guy/girl was not present on this blustery day. But I still felt the great need to shower upon exiting the bus.