(My husband and I are on the bus today, heading home from the nearby train station. I have a mobility issue and use a cane, so we sit in the two front handicapped seats. Our driver is clearly training, so there is a supervisor with her. As we approach a stop, we see another bus pulled off to the side, with three police cars and the passengers standing at the side of the road. Our bus stops, the supervisor gets off, and passengers pile on. It’s a small bus, so it fills right up. No big deal. The supervisor is talking to the police officers and the driver is waiting for him. Then, from behind me I hear a woman.)

Passenger: “Let’s gooooo! Why aren’t we mooooving?!”

Driver: *very nicely* “We have to wait for the other staff member to get back on. He’s just talking to the police.”

(My husband and I start chatting with the driver. I tell her the route is normally “very tame” and this stuff never happens. This is her first time driving this route. Less than one minute later, the same woman starts again:)

Passenger: “It’s taken an hour to come from [Street]! I have an appointment! YOU JUST CAN’T TRUST TRANSIT!” 

(We’re actually ON the Avenue she’s talking about, so I don’t entirely understand what she’s saying, but I say nothing. I’m already peeved, thinking I’m going to have to listen to this entitled woman for however long we sit here, but I say nothing. Sixty seconds later she starts again:)

Passenger: “Why can’t we leave him here with the cops and go! I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT!”

(And this is when I get… testy.)

Me: “We can’t go because we’re waiting for the supervisor to get back on the bus! That’s why we can’t leave!”

Passenger: “Well, there’s no need to be snippy about it! I have to—”

Me: “We’re all in the same position as you so there’s no point in complaining about something that’s completely beyond your control.”

(The mouthy woman shuts up and we sit in silence. Less than one minute later, the supervisor comes back on the bus. It turns out that another passenger on the stopped bus punched a woman sitting in the front — handicapped — seat and the supervisor was a witness and had to talk to the officers. The offending passenger was arrested. There are sounds of surprise from the people on the bus as the supervisor explains.)

Passenger: “Well, I didn’t know!” 

Me: “You were on that bus! Maybe if you’d shut your mouth you’d know.” 

(I’m walking to the bus stop when a group of grey-haired men walks toward me.)

Gray-Haired Man: “But I don’t need to hear the problems of a bit–” *sees me* “–female customer.”

(I appreciated that he didn’t want to offend me!)

(I travel pretty much everywhere in my city by bus and it is usually easy to tell who the tourists are as they often ask the divers for specific stops. The drivers don’t always appreciate having to be a tour guide for these folks.)

Tourist: “Where is the stop for Chinatown?”

Driver: “You get off when it looks like China.”

Tourist: “Yes, but what is the specific stop?”

Driver: “You get off when it looks like China!”

(I’m riding on a tram opposite a mother and two teenage daughters. They are babbling about school and how long it takes.)

Teen: *with all the drama a girl that age can bring* “Fifteen years going to school? That really ruins your life.”

Me: “Honey, enjoy. After that, you need to work for 45 years. That is three times as much.”

Teen: *panicky* “And when is it time to enjoy life?”

(Her mother couldn’t contain her laughter anymore. Neither could I.)

(I am waiting at a bus stop one day, answering work emails and messaging my family on my phone, when a man about twenty years older than me sits beside me, so close that our arms are touching. I scoot as far away as I can. I am not one of those people who enjoys small talk with strangers, especially when I’m already doing something else.)

Old Man: “I don’t bite.”

Me: “I don’t like sitting close to strangers.”

Old Man: “Surprised you knew I was there at all, you’re so into your phone.”

Me: *sighs* “Yup.”

Old Man: “You’re so invested you probably only knew I was here when I touched you.”

Me: “Yup.”

Old Man: “You see? You kids can’t even home a proper conversation!”

Me: “My mother taught me not to talk to strangers.”

Old Man: “You’re being rude! Kids these days ought to–”

Me: “I’m 31. Quite far from a ‘kid.’”

(He sputtered a few more nonsensical words before huffing and resigning himself to silence. When the bus came, he didn’t even board; he just got up and walked away.)