I’m waiting for a bus at a bus stop. A guy standing near me lights up a cigarette.

Me: “Excuse me, you can’t do that at a bus stop. Walk away if you’re smoking.”

The guy angles himself so that his back is to me and the bus stop. He continues smoking.

Me: “Oi! I know you can hear me! Stop smoking! There’s a sign!”

Guy: *Not turning around.* “I can’t see the sign, so it doesn’t apply.”

Me: “That’s not how it works, f***-cake. Put it out or walk away.”

Guy: *Still not turning around.* “Can’t see a sign, so I won’t.”

An old lady with (I assume) her grandson has been sitting at the bus stop. She gets up, walks up behind the man, and whacks him with her handbag. It’s not a hard hit, but it does startle him.

Guy: *Turning around.* “What the f—”

Old Lady: *In a thick Jamaican accent.* “Now you be turnin’ around, and you see the sign you dutty man!”

Guy: “Did you just hit me with your bag?!”

Me: “You didn’t see it happen, so it doesn’t apply.”

Guy: “I’m telling the bus driver what you did when he gets here!”

The guy actually stood there angrily for three minutes until the bus came. He pushed ahead of us to tell the bus driver he’d been assaulted. I then filled in the gaps in the guy’s story for the driver.

Driver: “So what I got from that was, you were illegally smoking at a bus stop in front of a child, asked to stop, refused, and grandma made a move to protect said child. Yeah, not looking good for you, is it mate?”

Guy: “I want you to call the police!”

Driver: “Feel free, from the pavement. I have a route to finish, and my passengers are getting impatient.”

The guy grunts but then tries to get on the bus.

Driver: “Mate, if you think you’re getting on this bus, you’re deluded. You take one more step closer, and I will be the one calling the police.”

He starts swearing loudly, but with everyone against him (now including all the bus passengers), he angrily steps off the bus. He makes a show of getting his phone out as old Jamaican lady, her grandson, and I get on the bus.

Guy: “I’m calling ‘Transport For London’ and reporting you!”

Driver: “You sound stressed, mate. Have a ciggie and calm down.” *Closes bus door and drives off.*

I gave the bus driver my email in case he needed someone to tell the true story to defend him if that guy called to complain.

My spouse is autistic and gets overloaded easily. We’re vacationing in France, but I’m American. I speak some French. These are the facts you need to know to understand this story.

We’re on a very crowded bus in Nice, and my spouse starts hyperventilating. I start giving her a massage to calm her down.

A man, jokingly, demands in French:

Man: “Est-ce que je le-recevrai?” *Could I get one?*

I’ve been asked this before, but my typical response to this joke (a quick explanation of my spouse’s condition) is too complex for my limited French. So instead, I reply with a comeback I’ve been meaning to use against the rude people who make this joke, but have felt was too rude to use in the States.

Me: “Quand vous me-préparez le petit-déjeuner, après la meilleure nuit du monde.” *When you make me breakfast in the morning after a great night.*

Four other young men who had been standing with the man, presumably his friends, all go ‘ohhhhhhhhh’ and what I assume is French for some variation of ‘you got burned’. Or possibly ‘this American makes no sense’, I may have mangled the joke, but I think I said it right.

Blushing, the man turned back to his friends and left my wife and me alone the rest of the ride.

I’m on the bus, and I overhear a dad talking to his young son:

Dad: “Stop jumping around and be quiet!”

Son: “Don’t be mad at me or I’ll tell mom that I saw you peeing in the bathroom sink.”

That conversation came to an abrupt halt, and the little boy continued his jumping. Thank God I was getting off at the next stop!

I’m riding the bus home from a routine ultrasound (baby’s fine). It’s off-peak hours, so there are maybe half a dozen people on board, and I’m eight months along, so I’m up at the front and get a nice, chatter-free, front-row seat for this.

The bus stops at a stop where two guys are waiting to get on. The first one to approach stops while he’s blocking the doorway, trapping the other guy on the sidewalk behind him.

Guy: *In doorway.* “Uh… hey, I lost my transfer…”

Driver: “Yeah, so?”

Guy: “I lost my transfer.”

Driver: “Your transfer is your responsibility, sir. For you, no transfer, no [transit] card, it is 3.75 to ride.”

Guy: “Yeah, I had a transfer. I just lost it.”

Driver: “No transfer, no [transit] card: 3.75.”

Guy: “See, I’m trying to get to [Street]?”

Driver: “This bus does not go to [Street].”

Guy: “Well, actually I’m trying to get to [Destination near street]?”

Driver: *Sigh of soul leaving body.* “You have any magic words?”

Guy: “I… what?”

Driver: “Magic words.”

Guy: “I… I don’t… uh…”

By this point, I’m covering a laugh while the guy diagonally behind me isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he’s snort-chortling. Probably has something to do with the rising panic on the doorway guy’s face.

Driver: “Magic words! Usually, people use them when they want something!”

Guy: “I… I don’t know. I, uh… What?”

Guy Trapped On Sidewalk Behind Him: “God! PLEASE AND THANK YOU!”

Guy: “Oh! Oh. Please, uh… and thank you?”

Driver: “Welcome aboard, sir!”

So, the guy in the doorway comes aboard and does a walk of shame back past me and everyone else, wearing a deer-in-headlights look that says he’s learning an important lesson about something. And the guy behind him gets to pay and ride on schedule.

I’m sitting on the bus. A small girl and her father are sitting in front of me. The girl is misbehaving a bit and won’t sit still, even though her father has told her to settle down several times.

Eventually, he lets out an exasperated:

Father: “Why won’t you do what I tell you to?”

Little Girl: *Matter-of-factly.* “Mom always tells you to stop washing your balls in the sink, but you still do it!”

They got off that bus very quickly as every single person around them was desperately trying not to laugh.