A Letter to a Stranger

Dear Finite Girl

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 23:18:00 +0000

I'm sure you're not a stupid girl. But I'm being very generous when I say this because I overheard this conversation that you were having with your friend on the train. She was showing off her new tattoo and you had the most pathetic exchange of words.

Y= You, F = Your Friend

Y: Why'd you get the number 8 tattooed onto yourself?
F: It's the infinity symbol.
Y: No, that's an 8.

See, you can't be that unintelligent if you're capable of realizing that it appears to be the number 8. Right...? But what you failed to notice (and what I did see) was that she was holding out her arm to show you the tattoo on her wrist. And one could say that it was an sideways 8 (if they were you) or they could say that it was an infinity symbol (∞) if you were anyone else.

But you looked to be about in high school, considering your biology 11 textbook (so why were you on the train at 1:20pm on a school day?), so you *probably should have recognized* that it had the possibility of an infinity symbol, especially when your friend corrected you.

But hey... At least you're taking biology and not math, right?

Sincerely,
Girl who can turn her head sideways...

Dear Snot-Girl,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 16:44:00 +0000

I was on the train yesterday when I noticed you. There wasn't anything particularly odd about you when I first noticed you. Until I realized what exactly you were doing.

Because, honestly, it's hard not to notice a girl talking on her cell phone with a finger sticking straight up her nose.

I averted my eyes at first, looking out the window, until out of the corner of my eye, I saw what you were doing once your finger left your nose. You continued talking on the phone, wiped your finger on the empty seat next to you, glanced down at your finger and then back in it went into your nose.

Which is disgusting. What if someone had done the same thing to the seat you were sitting in? Are you trying to spread germs? (Not that germs really need any help!) But it is just bad practice to pick your nose in public and then wipe it onto a surface that other people will touch. Have you heard of tissues? Or perhaps your own clothes that you will be wearing that are already exposed to all the pathogens that could be in your own mucous? Did you consider that?

Because, in case you haven't known, some people with comprised immune systems or chronic immune disorders are incredibly bad with common ailments that your immune system (or mine) could knock out in under a day. Some people with comprised immune systems can die from really common things, like a seasonal flu (or H1N1) or the common cold.

And, considering the statistics textbook and the school planner you were carrying, I'm guessing you were at least in 2nd year university.

Which means that you should know better. A lot better.

Sincerely,
Girl with better social skills

Dear "Yoga" Girl,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 01:40:00 +0000

You got onto the bus today with your friend. You were carrying your backpack and a rolled up yoga mat and your friend commented that she didn't realize that you did yoga now. Imagine my surprise when I heard you speaking from the seat in front of me.

Girl: Oh, I don't actually do yoga.
Friend: Then why do you have a mat?
G: Because a lot more guys hit on me when I've got it.
F: *surprised* Seriously? How did you find that out?
G: Well you know X? She carries one and she always has hot guys talking to her.
F: But she actually does yoga!
G: Well, how will anyone ever know that I don't?
F: Good point!

Really? You carry around an object, albeit a light and fairly compacted object, just to attract the attentions of guys? What happens if one of them happens to do yoga as well and asks you where you do it? What happens if one of them wants to know where you go to do yoga so they can sign up for a class as well? What happens if someone asks you for recommendations for places to buy yoga mats or asks you which is the best instructor you've had so far?

Do you not think things through when you decide on a really weird scheme?

Perhaps I'm just odd, but I really don't see the point of making up such a lie (with props, no less!) in order to get guys to like you. If they decide to hit on you just because of your yoga mat, are they just as likely to hit on you if you didn't have it with you? Perhaps they would have spoken to you anyways, regardless of that rolled up mat that you've got with you. Perhaps they would have wanted to talk to you and find something out about you that is true.

What will happen if one of these guys who will hit on you (allegedly) because you have a yoga mat with you decides to ask you out on a date? What happens if this relationship becomes remotely casually-serious? Are you going to tell them that you've just decided to stop going to yoga or are you going to fess up to this stupid lie that you've concocted?

Because really, I want to know how you think this will play out.

Sincerely,
Girl without a yoga mat

Dear Cheap Idiot,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 05:58:00 +0000

So I was sitting near the back of the bus today, minding my own business when you and your friends started to talk. At first, the conversation (which was loud, by the way - I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I bet the bus driver could have heard your annoying giggling and chatter) was boring. Talks of grad dinner/dance, dresses, shoes. It's September, kids, you have a lot of time. Then you moved onto your newest hobby.

Or rather, what your sister's friend's boyfriend (I think I got that right?) had for a new hobby: screenprinting. And you mentioned how he'd made your sister the "coolest shirt in the world" and how he had all this fancy equipment and inks and such. And.... "He'll totally make you guys shirts for like a buck. I'll give you guys his number, just call him up."

Really? Your sister receives a gift and you seem to feel as if it's a green light to pimp him out for $1 per shirt? Go do yourself a favour and look up how much screenprinting equipment runs for, how much the inks and catalyst and such cost, retail price. Please, go see that and then recant what you said and apologize to your sister's friend's boyfriend for being an idiot of epic proportions.

Also, please don't hatch up half-brained money-making schemes on public transit. It makes you and your friends look absolutely moronic. Considering you were going on about how you were going to ask your boyfriend's friend if he'd make you a website for "like, a dollar an hour, probably" and how you were going to sell those 'super cheap' screenprinted shirts for "at least" $30/each.

If your sister's friend's boyfriend and your boyfriend's friend are stupid enough to actually give in to your demands, you're incredibly lucky. But, since chances are they won't be so easy to let you walk all over them in favour of monetary gain... Go get a paper route or a part time or something instead of using others.

Sincerely,
Annoyed

Dear Smelly, Space Invader ,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 22:22:00 +0000

This morning I was on my way from school to the crafts store (I ran out of materials, yet again). I took an unfamiliar bus that, thankfully, the bus driver could tell me exactly which stop I wanted to get off on and in which direction to walk in order to get to my destination - the driver even took the time to tell me how to get to the nearest train station, how nice! But I sat down at the beginning of the bus route and you got on maybe about fifteen minutes later. Perhaps it's because you didn't feel like walking all the way to the back of the bus, or perhaps it's because there was an empty seat next to me and I'm a fairly small person so you thought you could just take up the space, and then some.

Either way, you ended up sitting next to me. You grunted hello at me before you pulled out today's paper to read. And it wasn't even one of those small freebie papers that you get at train stations (I get those for the Soduku puzzles and local news), no, it had to be one of those national papers that has sections A to E and takes up about a metre of space.

Which placed your hand neatly right in front of my face.

And do I even need to comment on your personal hygiene? Because, forgive me, it seems like it would be common sense to bathe either once in a while or at the very least go for a flea dip before going onto public transit and taking up more space that one ought to be allowed.

When I asked you to move your hand/arm from the general area in front of my face, you just rolled your eyes and muttered something about "little girls not knowing their place" and how "no one respects their elders anymore".

Well, sir, perhaps if you appeared to be elderly, I would have been a bit nicer. But really, you looked at most to be early 40s. Plus you were rude and invading my personal space.

So no, mister, I don't think I will be very 'respectful' to you.

Sincerely,
Little girl, who does know her place

Dear Advice Giver,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 17:45:00 +0000

I encountered you on the bus. You're probably around my father's age, a bit more gray hair and a visible receding hairline. Dressed pretty simply, dress shirt paired with jeans that looked way too stiff. Now, I didn't say anything to you and you was sitting in front of me on the bus. And then you decide to turn around and start talking to me.

Y: You won't get a nice decent man to marry you if you continue to dress like a slut.
M: [I slowly pull my earbuds out at this, I thought I misheard you over Lily Allen] Excuse me?
Y: You won't get a nice decent [insert race here]* man to marry you if you continue to dress like a slut.
M: [blinks slowly] Okay, right. Umm, thanks.

Politeness: 1, Random Stranger: 0

Because my answer kinda rendered you speechless for a moment, I took that as an opportunity to go back to listening to my music.

Of course, I took a few seconds to address my outfit that was visible for the day. Runners, not slutty. Black pants, not slutty. Navy blue hoodie that was zipped up, not slutty. Red jacket to keep me warm and dry, not slutty. Hair? In pigtails. I had to text a friend and she informed me that pigtails were probably what resulted in the slut comment. After all, schoolgirls just get such a bad rap in the world, right?

However, I am not impressed with your generalization. For all you know, I could have been under the age of 16 and the biggest worry in my life is wondering if the boy who sits next to me in math class even knows that I'm alive. For all you know, I could be the next Virgin Mary and have a miracle birth. For all you know, I could cat around and be sleeping my way through the men's water polo team at my school. Luckily for me, I'm none of those things, but you don't know that. You based your decision of me on... what, exactly? The way I was keeping to myself and reading a book? The way I was keeping to myself but, oh wow, I have my hair in pigtails? Really? Do you have that little of a life that you have to randomly start talking to girls who are sitting by themselves on a bus and start giving them little life lessons?

Because what I learned from your encounter is that I really don't care about attracting the attention from the race that you're so adament that I won't attract a guy from. I really don't care at all.

Sincerely,
Girl without a care

* The race that he was very adament that I'd never attract the attention of is the same one that I'm ethnically part of.

Dear Sketch Artist,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 19:56:00 +0000

It's not everyday that I notice someone that keeps on looking up at me while I'm reading the newspaper on the bus (the finance section, in case you were curious since you couldn't see). But when I was flipping the page from finances to the health section, I noticed that you were looking right at me before you looked back down.

You had a coiled notebook and a black pen in your hands.

I'll admit that it rather creeped me out at first. I was too tired this morning to figure out what you were doing. And after maybe about three more minutes, you stopped your cycle of looking down and looking at me and started focusing on someone else on the bus. And you flipped the page over and I caught sight of this rather good sketch of me. Done on a moving bus. In pen. However, from what I could ese, I do believe that you may have put my ponytail just a little bit too high. But that's about it.

You moved onto the next person quite easily and did a quick sketch of them. When you yawned, you let your sketch book rest on your lap and I saw this great full-page sketch of the girl who was sitting across from me. You sketched out what you could see, and the way her eyes were intently staring at her cell phone.

So while it was a bit creepy (and they do teach people that staring is considered to be rude), it's some kind of awesome that you were doing sketches that quickly and that nicely. So I'll give you props for that.

Just... Try not to stare so intently next time. It's kind of creepy.

Sincerely,
Drawn

Dear Woman with Books,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 06:10:00 +0000

When you accidentally hit someone with your bag full of books, it is customary in this country (Canada) to apologize to said person and then, perhaps, sit down (since there were available seats on the bus). It is not, however, polite (or legal...) to look at the person who said 'ouch' when you first hit them (that person being me) and then giving them a look of disgust while you go "That didn't hurt!" and then proceed to swing your bag (full of books) back at that person, that you had already hit once, right in the ribs.

Let's have a lesson today from the Criminal Code of Canada:

(1) A person commits an assault when
(a) without the consent of another person, he applies force intentionally to that other person, directly or indirectly;
(b) he attempts or threatens, by an act or a gesture, to apply force to another person, if he has, or causes that other person to believe on reasonable grounds that he has, present ability to effect his purpose; or
(c) while openly wearing or carrying a weapon or an imitation thereof, he accosts or impedes another person or begs.

And next time you want to hit someone with something, don't do it on a bus with witnesses and a bus driver who asks the person being hit if they want to call the police. It's not particularly very smart.

At least you had the intelligence to run. I really wouldn't have had an issue with the first hit (the unintentional one) if you had at least the manners to apologize for it. I wasn't asking for a gold engraved plaque stating your apologies, just a simple "sorry" would have done.

Sincerely,
Girl with the bruises

Dear Leash Holder,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 05:34:00 +0000

I really don't understand the point of putting your child (your child, by the way, who was a little bit older than a toddler age, I believe) on a leash. I don't understand the point of it unless, perhaps, you were in a very busy place like an amusement park and you know your child is prone to wandering off because something shiny caught their little eyes.

See, proper child leashes I can understand (sort of, I'm still at a lost at why you would want to leash your child to begin with). Made of real fabric, probably a padded harness that fits around their shoulders and loops around their middle, a long strip of something resembling the ends of the straps on a backpack to lead from the child to you. The 'real' child leashes.

Putting your child onto a leash that was a chain with it being looped around their middle and extending to your hand? It was like you decided to take Fido's leash and use it on your child one morning and decided that it'd be perfectly okay.

I question the intelligence of people fairly often. But putting your older-than-3 (or so) daughter on a leash meant for a canine while you're walking on the sidewalk and getting onto the bus and you're holding onto her hand the entire time is kind of overkill.

What did people do before child-leashes were made available on the market? Just lose their children everywhere or were they maybe better at disciplining their children and better at keeping track of their own children? At the very least, just get something to leash your daughter that doesn't look like you stole it off of your poodle.

Sincerely,
Disgusted

Dear the Boy that Darwin would have loved,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 06:26:00 +0000

I've been having a decent week so far. Lots of snow coupled with slow transit service. I'm back at school and there's ice everywhere and unpaved sidewalks.

And I have a very short complaint today.

If you're on a bus that's quiet at 6am and no one is saying a thing and the only thing to be heard is the bus going through slush, you really shouldn't be speaking so loudly on your cell phone to your friend about how your mom just made up a new batch of meth and how you were going to go score some E and maybe some roofies for your girlfriend after second period because some teacher wasn't ever going to realize that you never showed up for biology and the girlfriend still wasn't giving it up. You don't need to advertise your extracurricular activities to a somewhat full bus of people.

And maybe if you showed up for biology once in a while, you would know a little something about 'natural selection'. Charles Darwin would have loved you. You could have been the ultimate poster child for his theories to do with evolution and why some species die out.

Cheers,
Science Geek

P.S. Rape is rape is rape. Illegal in so many ways. Plus, if you're religious, you'll end up burning in hell. With fire. And brimstone. Or so they say. Or you'll get your just desserts when they try you as an adult for aggravated sexual assault.

Dear Girl with Rose-Coloured Glasses,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 04:06:00 +0000

I wasn't feeling particularly down or up today. But you came over and sat down next to me and asked me if I wanted to be your friend.

Now if I were to receive the exact same question from someone who looked like they were in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 60s or if they were male and a teenager, I'd probably wrinkle my nose in disgust and attempt to be polite in my declination of their offer.

But since I recognized (and knew!) the woman who was with you (Your 'au pair', I think she said she was? Whatever.). And she said it was okay to talk to me. And you're like... 4-5 and cute as a button. So of course when you asked to be my friend, I said "yes".

Of course, this was a really awkward conversation in that you're kind of young and you're kind of silly at times. Like for instance when you were telling me about this really super icky and gross boy that you know from school/pre-school. Because all he ever does is pull on your hair and try to trip you and then you said the funniest thing.

"I'm not going to date him, you know, that boy? He thinks I'm going to, but I'm not. Because when you date someone, you're practically married, you know. And you have to let them hold your hand and you have to let them kiss you or else they won't let you use their credit card to go shopping with. And I don't want to get married to anyone until I'm at least ten."

Do you realize how difficult it was for me not to laugh at that? I suggested waiting until you were at least twenty and then you asked how many fingers that was. Oh boy.

And really? All you have to do is hold their hand and let them kiss you from time to time and you get to use their credit card? Really? And I bet you think unicorns come into your backyard at night and that elves make your Christmas presents still. You'll learn.

But you know what? It's okay. Because when you're ten, you're going to realize that no one your age is getting married (not in this country, anyways). When you get to middle school, dating is like a contact sport. You touch someone and you're suddenly dating and it lasts for like... a week. A month, tops. Wait until high school, then you'll see that it gets a little bit more intense.

But I have to say... I never considered being fully reliant on someone as a life's goal. And I hope that changes for you. And that you don't become a gold digger, because that's not really that attractive.

Sincerely,
Over 10, but not married

Dear Saturday Stranger,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 06:15:00 +0000

I generally don't take public transit on weekends if I can avoid it. If I can avoid it, I'll get a ride from someone or I'll drive myself. Then again, getting home from the public library when I had no clue where my personal chauffeur was is kind of tricky. And I wasn't about to trek home in the rain so... I took the bus.

I'm sitting down and about to get off at my regular stop. The bus is about to pull to my stop so I get up and walk to the door and then suddenly there's someone tapping my shoulder. Which was you. I was about to tell you off since I'd just about had it up to here with guys and public transit and the propositioning for sexual favours just three feet away from the bus driver and everyone else on the bus.

And you're holding out a cell phone.

Correction: you're holding out my cell phone.

Guess it's a good thing that I didn't bite your head off for touching me, eh?

And thank you so much for getting my cell phone back to me before I got off the bus. It probably wouldn't have been a very good thing if you or anyone else kept it. Just saying...

Thank you again.

Sincerely,
Girl who is not quite surgically attached to her cell phone.

Dear Munchkin,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 20:19:00 +0000

I got on the bus fairly late this morning. I sat down in the second-to-last seat available on my way to school. Then you come running onto the bus, your mom right behind you, and you pull yourself up onto the seat next to me and you promptly fall right into me when the bus pulls away from the curb. You mumbled that you are really, really 'sowwie' and then sit back up properly again. Your mom sets a huge bag in front of you and she's standing there holding onto the pole.

You ask her for aww-paws and she pulls an apple for you and hands it to you.

You wave it around and ask her to 'start it' for you. It's not a practice that I'm familiar with and I noticed that she took the apple from you, took a bite out of it, then handed it back to you. Oh, that's what you meant by starting it for you.

Then you're happily munching on what's possibly the smallest apple in the history of ripe apples and then you look up and me and just go:

Do you wanna be my girlfriend?

I laughed and said that I try to avoid dating people when I don't even know their names.

So you introduced yourself.

I also mentioned that I didn't even know how old you were so you held up three fingers. And asked if I wanted to be your girlfriend because everyone at preschool has a girlfriend.

Even the girls? I asked and you just nodded your head as you took another bite out of the apple.

I politely declined and you looked downcasted before you looked up at your mom and went 'All done!' and handed her the apple core. You quickly forgot about the rejection that you received by the random person that you happened to fall into and sit next to on the bus on a dreary Friday morning.

I think you're going to be a heartbreaker one day - but maybe you should consider introducing yourself before asking any girl if they want to be your girlfriend (even if everyone else at preschool has one).

Sincerely,
Girl who can start her apples by herself

Dear Prepubescent Jerk,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 04:21:00 +0000

I encounter a lot of stupid people on public transit. I encounter a lot of creepy older men, a lot of moronic people who make me very happy that there's such a thing as Natural Selection. Very happy.

This morning, I got onto the bus and instead of sitting near the back of the bus like I normally do - I was sitting on the left side of the bus, completely minding my own business (trying to ignore and drown on the excessive giggler) and then suddenly the bus driver pulled over to the side of the road and got out of his seat and told you to haul your ass off of the bus.

I was a little confused and people kind of fell silent. And I removed the earphones to better hear what the bus driver was bitching about. Were you smoking on the bus? Visibly drinking alcohol?

And then I saw it.

Really, did you really have to jerk off on the bus? Because, to be perfectly honest, that's really rather disgusting considering it was rolling down the window next to where you were sitting. Rolling. Down. The. Fucking. Window.

I mean, kid, just go home and do it in your bedroom or in the bathroom. You don't need to do it on public transit. I mean, maybe it helps with the whole "Ooooh, what if I get caught?" scenario. But when you're jerking off in public and it gets all over the window, it's disgusting. And indecent. And you could have been charged with public indecency.

Go home and do it in the privacy of your own home next time. Mmkay?

And I'll be making a mental note never to sit near the front of the bus on the right hand side of the bus ever again (for that route, anyways).

Sincerely,
Disgusted

Dear Excessive Giggler,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 04:09:00 +0000

Do you realize how fucking annoying it is to be sitting on the bus, listening to music at a fairly moderate level (just enough to drown on the inane chattering that's going on on the bus but not so high that I can't hear emergency vehicles driving pass when they have sirens on) and then you come onto the bus. It's not my fault that the only available seat left when I got onto the bus was one near the back doors. It's also not my fault that you couldn't get a seat.

But did you really have to fucking to start giggling at every single little thing that your friend said?

The new Vancouver mayor. Giggle.
The new president. Giggle
The morning paper you had in your hand. Giggle.
The bus coming to a sudden stop. Giggle.
The other bus patrons wanting to come onto the bus, pushing by you. Giggle.

Fucking hell, woman. Could you have just stayed silent for one moment? No, of course not. I turn up the volume on my music and I could still fucking hear you.

Next time that I see you, I swear someone on the bus (maybe it'll be me, maybe it won't be) will duct tape your mouth shut.

Sincerely,
Annoyed

Dear Moronic Bitch,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 03:53:00 +0000

Today, I was in the only line for the bus that I take. The. Only. Line.

The bus rolls up and people start filing on. I was third in line. To be fair I was actually the first person at the bus stop, I just didn't join into the line until the other two people showed up. You showed up maybe two minutes before the bus rolls up. You're somewhere by the garbage can (perhaps you should have stayed there...?) and then you go to the very front of the line - despite the fact that there's approximately 15+ people in the line behind me waiting to get onto the bus.

The guy in front of me steps onto the bus. That's fine, he was ahead of them. Then you step right in front of me and I take a step forward to go onto the bus and then you turn around, glare at me and call me a cunt for trying to 'butt in line' ahead of you. And then you go onto this whole spiel of how "preteen girls need to learn to show respect to their elders".

Seriously? Seriously?

Eighteen is not "preteen". Preteen is generally a term reserved for 11 and 12 year olds. And if you really want anyone to show you some respect, maybe you ought to show some common courtesy for the rest of the people in the world. Like... getting in line. And waiting. Just like everyone else. Plus, calling someone a cunt for wanting to get onto the bus when they were waiting in line long before you were in the line is a very rude thing to say.

So no... I don't really feel that bad for calling you a moronic bitch today. I should feel bad for it. If it were anyone else, I probably would. But I don't really feel bad about it at all.

Sincerely,
Annoyed

P.S. Readers, this lovely woman appeared to approximately mid-30s/early-40s. Really, show respect for that? No, thank you.

Dear Cat Lady,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 17:36:00 +0000

It's Friday! It's the last day of the school/work week (for most people) and it is definitely a reason to celebrate. But imagine to my surprise when I woke up as the bus was pulling into a stop to pick up people and you walked on. You seemed to be struggling with a large cardboard box, so a man helped you carry it onto the bus. You had a ragged looking grey sweater that had a lot of holes in them and a large bag that jingled because you had a bell on the strap.

And then the meowing started.

You sat down and opened up your box and I peered over, only because I was curious. I was more than a little shocked to see maybe a dozen or more kittens in your box. You turned to the person who was sitting next to you and went "Say, would you like a kitty? Only thirty dollars each!"

I was more than a little disgusted that you were carting around a box that was over-crowded with kittens and they didn't seem to have a food dish or a water dish. You pulled out one with grey and white stripes and held the kitten out to the person on your other side and went "Look how adorable it is! Only thirty dollars!"

Eventually, you realized that there were no takers on the bus for random kittens and then you got off at another stop, dragging the box along with you and then, as the bus was about to pull away, you were sitting there at the stop. On top of the box. You were sitting on top of the cardboard box. That got rained on a little. You were sitting on top of a damp cardboard box that was holding at least a dozen kittens.

Stupidity is your strong suit.

Please don't ever have kittens in your possession again.

Sincerely,
Amateur animal activist

Dear The Navigational Challenged,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 18:11:00 +0000

I spent my morning standing on the train today, it was good fun, until it reached the station where I get off. I wasn't impressed with the transit system today and I anticipated the train being overly crowded (I wasn't disappointed by that, at least) but then I was subjected to listening to you talk on the train, which was just not pleasant at all.

You were on your cell phone, talking to someone about how you were just 15 minutes away from the station where you needed to get off. Which is funny, because you were a) going in the opposite direction and b) you were approximately 40 minutes (and counting) away from the station.

Then as the trained slowed to a stop, it announced which station it was at and you were telling your friend that it was incorrect (I guess they heard it) and you knew exactly where you were going. Then you said that you had to go and looked up and around and then frowned and then leaned yourself over to the girl next to you (am I thankful I didn't snag that seat? A little, yes.) and asked her if this train took you to the station you wanted. Luckily she had a bit more skill with reading a simple map and informed you that you were going in the wrong direction.

You just shrugged and called your friend back, telling her or him that you'll be maybe 20 minutes instead. -buzzer sound- WRONG! Even if you transferred train lines, it'd still take you 40+ minutes to get there.

Perhaps next time, you really ought to just look up and check out the map?

Sincerely,
Girl who knows where she's going

Dear Silent Boy,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 01:23:00 +0000

It was a very long day today. Actually, scratch that: it's still a very long day. The last thing that I wanted on my last bus home was being stuck next to someone who was talking my ear off because they needed someone to listen or someone to tell them that they're right or someone to just agree with them on whatever the hell they were going on about. I've heard more than I've ever needed to hear while waiting for a bus or train or while on a bus or a train.

So I sat down on the bus, bag at my feet and my cell phone in my hands as I debated texting someone to lament about my day. I didn't, but it didn't mean that I wanted to hear about someone else's day.

But luckily, so very luckily for me, you came onto the bus. You looked a bit shy, you mumbled to the bus driver before dropping a handful of coins into the machine to get your fare. You took the ticket and then shuffled along until the first available seat. The one next to me.

I was fiddling with my mp3 player to change the song (and increase the volume) when you sat down. You put your bag neatly in front of you and folded your hands and stared straight ahead.

I must confess I'm not used to this type of behavior. Certainly not by someone who's around 14 or 15 (and before anyone calls on me for judging based on looks, he was carrying a Math 10 textbook). But you were perfectly silent, just staring straight ahead and the only words you spoke to me were "Pardon me" when you reached over my head to pull to alert the driver that you wanted to get off at the next stop.

So I'm just writing this to let you know that I greatly appreciated not having my ear talked off on such a very long day.

Sincerely,
Tired Girl

Dear Mistaken,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Mon, 22 Sep 2008 17:14:00 +0000

I sat down on the bus first and you sat down right next to me. I had my headphones on and was listening to some pretty decent music. I kept to myself, reading my copy of the paper and having my bag at my feet. You sat down next to me and you had a copy of the same paper and then you turned and looked at me.

Man: Excuse me?
Me: *ignores*
Man: Excuse me? (a little louder this time)
Me: *sighing, a little annoyed, takes off headphones* Yes?
Man: I'm sorry to bother you but...
Me: Then don't.
Man: But you look just like my exgirlfriend.

Now I could have taken this in so many ways. You looked to be probably in your early to mid thirties. So I had to bite my tongue from going "So you were dating someone who wasn't even the legal drinking age yet?" - but I thought that would be mean.

Me: ...
Man: It's sounds crazy, I know. But you look just like her.
Me: That's nice...
Man: Women, my God, they're all insane though.
Me: ... Really... *wishing to go back in time and sit down next to that little old lady across the aisle with the knitting instead*
Man: You know why she broke up with me?
Me: *is attempting to read the comics at this point*
Man: You know why she broke up with me?
Me: I'm sure you're going to tell me... *continues reading comics*
Man: She said I was too unstable. That I just couldn't do anything right.
Me: *bites tongue*
Man: Can you believe it? Why would she say such a thing?
Me: *ignores*
Man: *rattles on*

Seriously, next time you feel the need to dump all of your problems on someone who happens to look like your exgirlfriend... Maybe you should consider a therapist. Not a university student who was attempting to read the news and really trying to ignore you. And if you do want to use me as a therapist again, I'll be charging you $20 for the duration of the bus ride - just for the sake of balance in the world.

Dear Kind Strangers,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 05:23:00 +0000

Yesterday afternoon while I was on the bus going home I flashed my bus pass to the driver as usual and found somewhere to sit down. One of you sat down next to me and pulled out knitting (speaking of which, if I ever want to get that scarf done, I should start knitting it again).

And the thing is, I do attempt to avoid making public scenes. But something just... I don't know. And the next thing I knew, I was crying. Not like heaving sobs or anything. Just.. quiet tears. And someone noticed. And that person attracted the attention of more.

And I guess what I want to say is... Thank you. Thank you for taking the time to be concerned over someone you didn't know. Thank you for offering tissues and hugs. Thank you for just being there, even if I didn't explain a thing.

Sincerely,
Me

Dear Bus Driver,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 19:22:00 +0000

This morning you pulled up behind the other bus and opened up your bus' doors. You basically caused chaos and those neat, single-filed lines to fall into disarray because no on was paying attention to who was where first. I didn't mind that too much - I wouldn't have gotten a seat on the bus otherwise. I broke from the line and ran (yes, ran - as in physical exercise, look what you made me do, Mister Bus Driver!).

You waited until everyone had gotten on before you pulled away from the curb (before the other bus too, tsk tsk) and continued on your merry way. You asked if people were having a good time, and those that were still awake did answer you. There was a general consensus that consist of "Ehhh" but what would you really expect when it wasn't even 8am yet?

At the first stop, when the bus was still overly full and there were a lot of people standing, you quipped something that I (at a pre-8am state) thought was quite funny. "Don't push and shove, folks! If you can't get to the door, just use a window. Remember to duck and roll!"

Now I'm sure you were joking, but you did happen to get one woman questioning you, who seemed to think that you were, in fact, serious. After all, she was asking you how to get the windows opened and she seemed quite insistent on following your orders of ducking and rolling.

But despite the odd person who took your joking seriously, you were a rather pleasant and cheerful bus driver and I must say I enjoyed this morning's ride significantly more than I normally do.

Thank you,
A transit user

P.S. I wonder if you or your fellow bus drivers keep blogs about the crazy patrons that you encounter on a day-to-day basis. If so, I would love to compare notes.

Dear Social,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 01:35:00 +0000

I got on the bus before you this afternoon. We both got on at the bus loop by the mall and you sat down in front of me with, what I assume to be, your girlfriend. I say 'assume' because I can never tell if people are the type to make-out with people that they're not dating while riding public transit. Perhaps it's a nervous habit of yours.

But that is besides the point.

As the bus was pulling away from the stop and moving to get onto the street, there was a teenaged girl standing at the crosswalk and waiting for the bus we were in to round the corner. You turned your head first and went "Ohmifuckinggawd, it's Nicole!"

Your (girl)friend turns her head and goes "Ohmigawwwwd, it is, like, Nicole! What's she doing by herself?"

You reply: "I don't know. But that's so weird. She's, like, never alone. It'd be, like, seeing you alone."

...

(Yes, you really did say that many 'like's in your sentences. Like, for real. You could not stop. It was rather pathetic and I feel sorry for the English language.)

Now I realize, as much as the next person, that humans are fairly social. If you look to one of our closer animal relatives (monkeys), they are fairly social. They spend a lot of time together and are all very touchy-feely with one another. That isn't to say that they're incapable of being by themselves. There is nothing wrong with going to a bus stop by yourself or leaving the mall by yourself.

But then you pulled out your cell phone and told the girl next to you that you "Totally have to, like, text this to everyone."

Good job, kid. Because seeing a girl you know walking to the bus stop by herself is absolutely text-worthy. I mean, you could text about what you bought at the mall or that you're going to be late going somewhere or anything else, really. Instead, you were going to be texting "everyone" about how you saw this girl walking to the bus loop by herself.

Can you hear yourself speaking? Do you ever pause and reflect on the crap that comes spewing out of your mouth in the form of words? Or do you just move on, completely forgetting what you said 5 seconds ago because your memory can span around the same amount of time as a common goldfish? "Oh, look! A castle! ... Oh, look! A castle!"

There are so many more things that are more earth-shattering and more interesting and would make you look just the slightest bit more intellectual (because, trust me, you are in need of some IQ points) beyond seeing someone being by themselves.

If we can't be by ourselves, how can we truly appreciate the people around us when we have them?

Sincerely,
Antisocial Butterfly

Dear Graffiti Artist,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 04:08:00 +0000

I appreciate art as much as the next person. I like Vincent van Gogh's Sunflowers and The Starry Night. I appreciate Monet and Dali and Picasso. I can also appreciate art done by people who aren't dead yet. I mean, sure, I'm not a fan of the Mona Lisa - but I do like art.

However, sitting down on the bus and looking up at the back of the seat that's in front of me and seeing a clean, plastic side is rather nice. Sitting down on the bus and looking up at the back of the seat that's in front of me and seeing phone numbers and "Call Anne for a good time at..." messages are rather annoying. Sitting down on the bus and looking up at the back of the seat that's in front of me and seeing random doodles of flowers, I can live with that. I doodle flowers and hearts and stars (yes, such typical girly things to doodle in the page margins) sometimes if I'm really bored.

But today, I sat down in an empty seat and looked up at the back of the seat that was in front of me and I saw a rather detailed image, mostly likely drawn with a Sharpie. I mean, I would say that you have some pretty good talent. Things were proportional, the angles were nice. You drew a scene. A girl on a couch, a guy by her side. Or rather, a guy on her and the girl struggling. There were cat ears on her, a tail slinking down the side, claws out. But you, and I'm assuming you're either a guy, drew the women with next to no clothing on.

Great. I kind of expected that. But what I didn't count on was the fact, that if I paid a little bit more attention to the image that I meant to, I could see that all the details you drew for the guy. The shadow of what was underneath his clothing, the way the hair was all brushed off to one side.

You have talent, I will grant you that. But you should be, perhaps, a little more selective in your canvas. But I guess if you're just looking to shock people and get your art out there, it's not a bad way to go.

Too bad they'll occasionally clean the buses and will take cleaners/bleach to it.

Sincerely,
Can't draw to save her life

Dear Owners of a Bundle of Joy,

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 04:29:00 +0000

I stood in the bus line. Yes, I realize that people have nicotine addictions. Yes, I realize that secondhand smoke is kind of unavoidable if I'm standing in a line. But if I really wanted to, I could just step out of line. I could move to stand downwind from you. I am physically capable of doing that.

Your baby, that precious little bundle of joy, who was sitting in her stroller sleeping?

She doesn't have a choice.

Both of you were smoking, rolling the stroller back and forth in what I can only assume is like a rocking motion for the baby.

You made the decision to give birth to your child. You keep her dressed and in a fancy stroller with toys hanging down in front of her. There were things that made rattling sounds, lights, mirrors, stuffies for her to chew on. You make all these decisions to better her life and her development.

But you're willing to smoke around her.

I don't get that, really I do not. I mean, you're willing to make all these decisions to make sure she's safe, happy, entertained and loved. But you will smoke around this baby. If she was a teenager, I wouldn't care because she would be capable of moving away from you. But instead, you're standing there, both with a cigarette in your hand and you both smoke and blow out smoke at the same time.

And there was no wind today. So I could see the cigarette smoke just drifting down and hanging around the stroller. And there was your little girl, just sleeping. And inhaling, and exhaling. Can you imagine what kind of effect that secondhand smoke is going to have on her three years from now? Ten years from now?

You have the chance to keep her healthy and safe. Instead, you're exposing her to something that could cause her to have asthma, to develop respiratory issues and other health problems. You have the chance to do right by her. And instead, you both stood there, smoking while your baby was sleeping.

If there was an award for the stupid parenting moves, I'm sure exposing your child to secondhand smoke on a daily basis would be up there, right under 'driving drunk with your child in the backseat'.

Sincerely,
A Coughing Fit