Public Transportation

It's wonderful that we have such an *cough* efficient public transportation here in Seattle. However, there's a few things that just bug the crap out of me. Literally. I have to go to the bathroom after I get off the bus.

Firstly, to all the 500 pound silver backs who find it necessary to sit in the back seat at the end of the bus: The aisles are only 2 feet wide. You are 6 feet wide. Do the math. They have a large front sitting area specifically for the likes of you, and I urge you to use these facilities at all costs. I'm not exactly a thin guy myself, but I can tell if my trying to fit in a small space will intrude on other people's bubble, especially in regards to where my ass and genitals will ultimately end up. I've seen enough of both from several genders to fulfill my ever aching need to have them shoved in my face every time I want to get across town. Seriously people.

Secondly, to all the bag people. You know who you are. Is it necessary to carry everything you own on the city bus? Are you moving in? And why does everything you own have a faint smell of old cheese and wet dog? Are you importing goods for some weird Italian restaurant that I don't know about? Cause most likely it's gone bad between here and Queen Anne. If you feel that everything you have in those bags is SO DAMN IMPORTANT so as to carry them everywhere you go, please exercise courtesy in keeping them in your seat and not in middle of the aisle where the fat guy who wants to sit all the way in back won't squish everything or trip over them causing a chaotic earthquake that'll bring the Columbia Building down.

Lastly, to the pedal-happy bus drivers. I understand you're on a schedule and all, but can you please show some good customer service by not pulling from the curb at 90 mph before anybody can find a seat? Believe it or not, we don't have seat belts like you do, and Newton's law of motion has proven time and time again to still apply, even more so when you slam on the brakes when you realize you almost missed the requested stop. You're the reason I wait until the bus comes to a complete stop before I stand up. Oh how those handrails feel so good when they're lodged halfway down my throat in anticipation of getting off this godforsaken death machine. I promise, by feathering the gas and break pedals, you will not ever have to explain to your boss why the fat gorilla tripped and fell over all the bags of cheesy dog smell treasures in the aisle when you pulled away from the curb at sound breaking speeds.

Thank you, and safe riding.