Insufferable Saturday

© 2010 Stan Spire


The public bus is like a combination county jail and mental hospital on wheels. You don’t rub elbows with polite high society.

Minimizing the amount of time spent riding on it is crucial to my sense of well-being. During the week the shuttle only takes 15 minutes to get me to the mall.
But on Saturday the service is down to just one bus covering two routes. The mall trip is prolonged to 45 minutes or longer. That means longer exposure to four-letter words, bad jokes, and such erudite discussions as the minimum length a man’s penis must be to satisfy a woman.

There’s the cackling crone who thinks rock and roll music is “shit kicking.” And the hirsute burn-out going on about how he needs a beer.

Don’t forget strange smells, AKA the bodily miasma of the great unwashed. Malodor that hangs in the air after the emitters have long departed.

If walking was an option, I would pick it.