(My fiancé is incredibly well-read and regularly quotes to me from textbooks or articles that he’s read. I did, however, discover that he hasn’t read ‘Harry Potter.’  I get him the first three books for his birthday. A few weeks later, we are sitting at the back of the bus on the way home.)

Fiancé: “Ugh…”

Me: “You okay?”

Fiancé: “I’m getting motion sickness. Read to me?”

Me: “Sure. What do you—”

(He hands me ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’ and I open it up to find he’s at my favorite chapter.)

Me: “You haven’t read this, right?”

Fiancé: “They just got to the Shrieking Shack.”

(I start reading, doing voices and sound effects. I notice a slow migration of people towards the back of the bus, but ignore it, figuring there were seats needed up front. Then someone lays their head on their arms and sighs at me.)

Me: “Um, can I help you?”

Stranger: “No, it’s a good bedtime story. Carry on!”

(I’m a student on a school trip in Germany. There are around 30 students packed into one coach, from about 13 to 17 years old, and since it’s a very long drive the teachers are letting us plug our music players into the coach’s speakers. A song comes on that everyone knows, and as we are all music students, we all sing along.)

Everyone: “I knew you were trouble when you walked in, and now I’m lying on the cold hard ground!”

(On cue, all the students scream as loud as they can, making the teachers all jump and the coach driver actually swerve in surprise. Someone unplugs the music before we can get to the next chorus and a teacher comes to the second floor of the coach, where the students sit.)

Teacher: “I think that’s enough singing for now.”

(I am sitting on the bus, after having a bad morning, leftover from the day before that was even worse. I have my media player out, and am watching a clip from an animated Batman episode. A small girl, about four years old, is sitting with her mother next to me.)

Little Girl: *after she looks over to see what I’m doing* “You have cartoons?”

Me: *trying to be friendly* “Yeah. I have a lot of cartoons on this thing.”

(We sit quietly and watch the clip together, and I pull up a few more, much to the delight of the little girl. Their stop comes before mine, and it takes the mother a few attempts to get her daughter to pry her eyes off the current clip and follow.)

Little Girl: “Bye!”

(She stopped suddenly, then out of nowhere, turned around and hugged me. I returned it briefly, and smiled as she and her mother left to get off the bus. I don’t know who you are, little girl, but you made a miserable young woman who was having a rough week very happy, and your mother should be proud to raise someone as sweet as you.)

(I am on my bus to work. I show the driver my bus pass. On the bus pass there is a pattern around the edges. My finger is covering some of the pattern.)

Bus Driver: “Fingers!”

Me: “Pardon?”

Bus Driver: “Fingers!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Bus Driver: “Take your fingers off the pass!”

(Although they weren’t covering anything important, this driver REALLY needed to see the pattern.)

(I’m a teenage girl, taking the bus home after a day out. On the way to a seat, I pass a woman and her son, who seems to be about my age.)

Woman: “How about that one?”

(The son buries his face in his hands and sighs.)

Son: “Still gay, Mum.”

(This happened with every teenage girl that got on. Wherever you are, gay boy, I hope you find a good boyfriend!)