I hate the bus

Hate it! I've never liked the bus. As a kid, having to take the bus to school was pretty much the worst thing in the world. In kindergarten they wouldn't trust kids to remember their bus numbers so they were written on laminated paper cutouts of buses that we were forced to wear as necklaces at the end of the day, in order to make our way home. But my mother, not trusting the durable combination of paper and yarn, did me one better. She wrote my bus driver's name on my lunchbox and said that if I got lost, to call out her name. I realize, writing this now, that my mother must have hated me. First off, there are a thousand things wrong with the logic behind it. The bus # would have worked just as well, if not a million times better. And, given that my driver's name was Norna, (go ahead, say it once) it did very little to help my lunch situation with kids who were learning to read. NNNooooorrrna. Is that you? um, no. I'm jessica, my mom hates me.
So, strong negative feelings abound when it comes to taking the bus, and I can tell you in the last few months it's only gotten worse. Here's a highlight reel: A woman jumped in front of the train I was on, a man coughed literally 2 inches from my head like he was trying to test me in some gross way, a homeless man wearing a dress and one sneaker sang "Hey Mickey" into my face for 8 stops, and tonight, Lynn, a complete stranger and perhaps the worst smelling man in the history of the world, talked to me in a sports metaphor for my entire ride concerning the fact that he's "just trying to be about it." A sample of the convo follows, but I can't stress enough how badly he smelled and how hard it is to react to people when they're speaking, and you're trying to hold your breath.
"You see, I'm just trying to be about it, all's fair, the balls in play but it's inbound, it's in the net, not on the line, you know?" (nod, nod, wait for door to open, inhale, hold) "There are no fouls, I'm not gonna foul. I'm just tryin to be about it, I play clean for my 8 points, you know? (nod, hold it, nod, what the hell sport is this?) and so it goes. for the entire ride.
You know in monopoly how there's the B&O railroad? That comes from something. That comes from truth. The plastic seats have actually absorbed the smells. The scents are so insane they're actually changing the properties of plastic to allow for absorption. It's bad news. But on a positive note, I'm meeting Lynn on Sunday for a pick-up game at the pool.