HellOnline

There is, or so I’m told, more than one way to skin a duck. Today was a day for alternative skinning or more specifically – The Bus. Now, I’m no stranger to buses, I’ve been using MUNI to get around the city for the last 3 years but after riding the metro trains for two (yes, two!) whole days I’m starting to get a whole new perspective on buses.

There’s a different feeling when riding underground. The train car becomes your whole world, fellow passengers, your only companions. There’s a sense of camaraderie. On the bus, things are quite different. On the bus I get competitive. This becomes apparent to me when the bus slows down to a crawl and one lady decides to step off the bus and start walking.

Now, usually I would cheer for the underdog, this lone woman taking on complex machinery and technology and years of habit but this time I’m rooting for The Bus. And when we pass her for the first time and then again the second time, something inside me wakes. And when we zoom down market leaving her trailing in the dust I cheer inside. The Good Guys won! The people who vote for conformity and comfort won and I am proud to be among them.

I end up at CalTrain 10 minutes early. Maybe there is something to trying new things every once in a while.

The problem with NextBus and especially with having it on my phone is that it makes me run. Had I not known that my next train is 5 minutes away I would gladly have missed it. Ignorance is, after all, bliss. But armed with that knowledge I boarded the N at exactly 8:21; Huffing, puffing and sweating but on time. In my head, my mom’s voice informed me that I’m so gonna catch a cold because of this.

The train is, of course, packed and I’m left standing next to this girl whose eyes are staring off so deep into nothingness that I can’t help but think she’s seeing into parallel dimensions. Well, as long as she doesn’t start speaking in tongues I figure I’m safe so I stand there next to her and try to explore the depths of nothingness myself. There’s nothing there, I give up.

It’s in moments like this, when surrounded by a sea of people that I realize just how disconnected I am from the rest of humanity. Newspaper headlines might make sense to you but they’re a riddle to me. Really, who needs Sodoku? I have the morning papers. Based on random glimpses of this morning’s headlines I surmise that the 49ers (having lost to everyone else) are now taking on the city of San Francisco and that a woman named Shana (there’s a picture, I suppose she’s hot) is no longer part of the Machine; I can only assume she is now part of the Man. God speed, Shana, give’em hell!

I arrive at Caltrain early and navigate my way between the masses to a bench where I am left to reflect on just how weird these people are and the world they live in. *Achoo*

Bless you.

There’s a special place in hell for people who eat smelly foods on crowded trains. Hey lady, we’re all hungry here! And I truly do not care to smell your egg salad sandwich, ok? Human society is held together by lies and delayed satisfaction, so get with the program! You could do with less feeding anyway. Trust me on that.

There’s a special place in hell for people who grab the suddenly open seat I was slyly advancing on. I saw it first and even if I didn’t, I’m me and you are most likely not. So get off the seat, bro, it’s mine. It has my butt prints all over it!

There’s a special place in hell for that woman on her cell phone who won’t shut-up about how text messages are the new thing. If you really think that, start using them more often and leave the rest of us in peace. We really don’t care about that new guy you’re dating, how shy he is and how he hasn’t gotten any in months. By the way, looking at you, I sincerely doubt his luck is gonna change any time soon.

There’s a special place in hell for every N train ever stuck at the entrance to a tunnel or just before that one invisible spot that’s apparently the only place they’re allowed to stop at that entire huge platform. I’ve never seen any such spot so I guess it’s only visible to MUNI drivers with their advanced training in sensing just how late you are. Oh, and thank your for that incredibly slow roll into 4th and king; there’s no view I like better than my train leaving the station.

Just so we end on a positive note, it’s a new year after all, there’s a will-call ticket to heaven waiting for all the women on that crowded metro car who subtly checked me out while I wasn’t looking. It’s a shame I have no ego to build (it’s been demolished long ago by your sisters) but had I been in possession of one, I’m sure it would have expanded an inch or two. I thank you for your efforts.

note: reposted from yelp cause Eddie made me do it.