Hot Day Re-Post

So, this week I have 1 fancy celebration dinner, tickets to a play, 2 exams, 1 paper, and 1 presentation on a genetic disorder that kills children to complete between Monday and Thursday.  Last night was my big night to work, and guess who was locked out for 3 hours instead? So I am re-posting a hot day post from last year. It was funny. (Also, my very first ad. Please clicky.)

So, which post do you want next:

1.  Relationship advice from my mom (real advice, not funny advice)

2. The story about the time I was almost killed by a lion in the Serengeti (true)

3. A story about the time I got locked out and had to scale a fence whilst clinging to Boo Radley’s neck (also true and so recent the shame has not faded)

Vote in the comments!

Repost begins below.

Dear Everyone on the 42 Bus,

I hate you today.

Usually you’re so pleasant, with your indoor voices on the phone and knowledge that talking to other passengers on the bus is Not Okay.  After all, what do we have to complain about in the morning?  We have nice bus drivers, and vehicles that arrive so frequently they’re often tumbling over each other at every stop.  Sure, the way the drivers idle at the beginning of the route at Lamont Street can feel a little passive-aggressive when you’re in a hurry, but on balance, our collective demeanor makes it obvious that we know we have the best bus route in the city.

So why were you such dicks today?

Please note that wearing your iPod does not exempt you from the universally recognized etiquette of giving up your seat for old ladies with motherfucking canes.  CANES.  I know you saw her, douchebag Adams Morgan guy with the carefully gelled hair.  And you, pinched-face white girl in the red linen dress.  I know it’s hot, and early, and I know you like to sit.  But so does the abuela with the CANE.

And once I–seated halfway down the bus and the first to rise–gave up my seat and crammed into the aisle with the rest of NW’s humid humanity, I am SO INCREDIBLY SORRY that my bag touched your shoulder, middle-aged black lady in the dangly earrings.  I can only imagine how that must have ruined your morning.  I think the look of frank, unbridled disgust you gave me was a little bit uncalled for in its intensity, but hey, the heat makes us all cranky.

Speaking of being cranky, if you, my fellow 42 riders, repeat your appalling behavior from yesterday and step past and over me when the bus driver says no more passengers can fit this evening in Dupont, I won’t be responsible for my actions when I grab you by the puffy ankles and pull you from the step.  And once we do get on the bus, all 800 of us sticky and crammed together like so many slices of ham, please, please, officious Capitol Hill employee who thinks she’s hot shit because her boss is on the Ag Committee or WTFever, STOP yelling in my ear for people to “move back further already!”  There is nowhere for us to move.  That’s the whole point of why we are standing so close together that our sweat is unattractively dripping on one another.  It’s simple physics, and no amount of sighing and eye-rolling will change it, though such behavior is indeed imperiling my ability to hold my shit together until most of you debark in Adams Morgan.

In sum, please hydrate properly and stop pissing me off.  Thanks.