I said I should write a book about it...

...but I think I'll just blog about it instead.  My book idea would have been based on my adventures riding the bus.  I have been using public transportation to and from work, nearly every day, for the past 8.5 years.  I prefer it this way: the main reason being the cost-effectiveness of using the bus (especially since I don't have to pay to ride, thanks to my Pitt ID), I don't have to deal with the headache of sitting in traffic, and it gives me some down time to read or just unwind from the day.

Even though it's my preferred method of transportation, it is certainly not without faults.  Late buses, crowded buses, having to stand at a bus stop in all kinds of not nice weather...but most of all, the faults tend to be due fellow passengers.

With that being said, I will be dedicating Wednesdays to tales of public transportation.  Some of these stories might be older, I've built up quite the collection of horror stories in the past 8.5 years, but they will make you scratch your head and wonder what is wrong with the world today, so they are still relevant.  Today's story is one that (sadly) occurs on a regular basis, including this morning.

Dear Fellow Passenger,

Your insistence on putting your work bag on the seat beside you is maddening and just flat out rude.  You are no more entitled to a seat on this bus than I am.  And your bag?  Not entitled to a seat at ALL.  As if it's not bad enough that you plop your bag down there every.freaking.day (when this bus is jam packed, standing room only every.freaking.day), the fact that you roll your eyes and sigh like I've asked you for a kidney when I politely ask you if I can sit there makes me want to slap you across the face and ask if you were raised in a barn.  Instead, I take the passive-aggressive route and give an exaggerated, "WOW, thank you soooooo much!" as I sit down.  With my bag IN my lap...because that's how it's done.