For those who do know me, the question is:
So I know you’re not on the light rail line anymore, but why not write about your bus rides?”

Both of these are really good questions that I do have answers for. Let’s start with #1….

First of all, you have to be ignorant to think all public transportation is “ewwww”…and probably from Texas. If I lived in NYC and made 6 figs a year, I would be taking the subway, is that so “ewww”?

Reason #1 I use public transportation: Parking in the med center is so expensive because it’s probably being used to demolish buildings and build new ones. That’s what Houstonians do, we get bored of buildings so we blow them up and build new ones…..with the exception of the Astrodome….that guy will continue to be infested with asbestos way beyond my years.

Reason #2 I use public transportation: I’m saving the world. Even in a big diesel bus that emits 10 times the amount of CO2 that my car does. But at least there’s one less car on the road. This was a more applicable answer when I was on the light rail line.

Reason #3 I use public transportation: It’s like having a chauffeur. Technically, I’m a baller for having somebody else drive me to school/work and you’re a scrub that has to do it yourself. Sleep on the way to school? why not! I won’t even get in a wreck!

Reason #4 I use public transportation: I like to send complaint tweets to Metro when their buses suck and they fail to update their website. It’s like the checks and balances system of the government. If I didn’t ride, they wouldn’t have an active social media user rider to keep in check. I like to think of myself as the legislative system of Metro.

Reason #5 I use public transportation: My boyfriend won’t take me to school.

Now on to #2…why don’t I blog about the bus?

Have you ever been on the 87 bus line? It’s the most boring in the city. Of the 11 people on the bus this morning, there was 1 other dental student, 8 med students, 1 MD Anderson PhD student, and 1 lady who works somewhere in the med center.

How do I know this? I asked. But I really didn’t have to. I can categorize everybody on that bus route (maybe stereotype is the better word).

1. If you’re wearing misty green scrubs, you’re most likely a dental student. If you’re wearing misty green scrubs and I’ve never seen your face before, you’re from some other hospital.
2. If you’re wearing a short white coat, you’re a 3rd or 4th year med student.
3. If you’re wearing scrub bottoms and a tshirt with disheveled hair, you’re a med student with a test today.
4. If you’re wearing scrubs with cats on them, you work at some random office in the med center.
5. If you’re of Asian decent, speak little English, and sit next to me, you’re not moving when it’s my stop and will make my give you a lap dance on my way off the bus.
6. If you’re wearing scrubs, but have on make-up and cute hair, you’re probably a nursing student.
7. All the rest are grad students at MD Anderson studying cancer.

Now you can see how boring my bus rides are. They are not blogworthy at all, and I apologize for not heing able to brighten your day just a little but.

Moral of the story: I miss the lightrail just as much as you miss me riding it.

A knife.

I should probably inform you I never grew up around weapons of any sort. My family didn’t hunt, fish, or do anything outdoors for that matter. The first time I cut open an animal was on a fishing trip with my boyfriend my freshman year of college. I shot skeet once and asked to take one of the orange skeet things home. I couldn’t even tell you what I used to shoot said skeet, all I know is it hurt my shoulder and I vowed never to touch a gun of any sort ever again….well except the kiddy shotguns I cleaned at the summer camp I worked at. Regardless, I have no concept of weaponry of ANY kind.

I’ve had a pocket knife once when I was an Assistant Director at the beforementioned summer camp, but only because it was small and UT-orange. I think I used the scissors on it once. This man did NOT have a pocket knife. He had a knife you use to stab things. My heart began to race as soon as he pulled out his weapon of choice.

Was I really going to die on public transportation?

REALLY?

Can a knife kill people or just wound them?

All of these thoughts began to race through my mind and I was contemplating if it was time to say a few prayers. In that moment, I realized this homeless man was using his knife to cut the straps on his backpack. He was just being resourceful. I found myself staring at him and his knife with my mouth wide open. We made eye contact and he quickly put his knife away and gave me a half-way grin. He tied the two straps of his backpack together to make it more purse-like.

I was safe. He was harmless. And maybe I should take a class in weaponry…

Pocket knives can be this big?

At first he seems pretty liberal with his target flyer-takers. He hands me a flyer and then starts to hand one to the woman next to me. She slowly raises her head to grab it from his hand.

Hustler: “Oh never mind.”
The woman is confused and reaches for it and mumbles something that sounds like “wwwhhaaaayyyyyyy???”
Hustler: “Oh hell naw I ain’t wastin’ this $1 flyer on your cracked out ass.”

The woman sighs and mumbles something that I thought resembles “Stupid dumbass.”

Hustler: “I ain’t givin you nothin. We don’t want people like you at this party. It ain’t for people like you.”

The woman puts her head back in her lap and appears to cry. I feel bad at first but finally take a look at the card.

“HUSTLER MONDAYS” it read on the front.

Hustler Mondays

ewww

The man continues to pass out the flyers in the front of the train. I notice him almost hand one an old man, then quickly snatch it back. I started to feel lucky that I was invited to such an awesome event. I guess even on those ponytail days at 9 a.m., I somehow resemble a party animal.

He returns to his seat to open a box full of CDs. I was unaware people still made and/or bought CDs. He turns to the man sitting across his row.

Hustler: “Yo man dis my album. I wantchu to take a look at it. It’s dat new shit you been hearin bout yaknowwhatimsayin?”

Man: “Aight.”

The Hustler continues to pass out CDs, but this time he skips me. He has conversations with a few other people and then returns to grab some more CDs. By this time, we’re at my stop, so I inquire about the CDs.

Me: “Are you any good?”

Hustler: “Well what kinda music you like?”

Me: “I dunno … all kinds.”

Hustler: “Dis ain’t no country or no Katy Perry California Girls shit you white girls listen to … dis is pimpin music.”

Me: “Well I’ll probably like it.”

Hustler: “Naw man this is from da soul. Dis is hardcore. Ain’t for you. But imam see you at da club, right?”

The doors open and I exit the train. I guess I’m not cool enough for the CD.

Moral of the story: I don’t think I have the appropriate attire for Hustler Mondays.

(you can also view this post on CultureMap)

The Pirate starts rambling some nonsense and I try to avoid him by checking up on twitter, until I realize he’s standing up and trying to climb over me. I quickly stand up to avoid an inappropriate brush of male body parts. As soon as I stand up out of the isle, he falls over onto the row across the way. His bottle falls out of his hands and onto the floor of the train. As it rolls down the aisle, the smell of whiskey causes the whole train to look our way. He stands up grabs his bottle, and gives a rather rude grunt sounding much like a “RRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrr” as he exits the train.

Here is Jessica‘s Banana Story.
Since I’m just now starting this blog, in order for you all to get the real effect of my bus stories, I’ll have to start from the beginning (also my favorite):

I moved from NYC to Houston in August 2008. In NYC, it was completely normal to take public transportation; in fact, you HAD to since no one could afford a car. So it was a daily occurance to take the subway, cross town, uptown bus, pedicab etc. Of course I had my fair share of hilarious stories from those days, but I’ve drank since then.

With the move back to Texas, I was excited to continue taking public transportation because 1) work paid for it; 2) it was way less stressful than driving in Houston traffic and 3) well I’m just lazy and prefer someone else to do the driving. My first few weeks went by somewhat uneventful. Luckily I lived about a 4 block walk from the bus stop (walking?? in Houston?? blasphemy!) I would usually kill 2 birds with 1 stone and bring something to eat on the bus (granola bar, various fruit choices) and never had any problems. All was going dandy until one day I brought along a banana to eat on the quick 8 minute ride.

That day seemed like any other day: muggy, humid…or so I thought. I get to the bus, step in, tap my “Q Card” (read: NYC’ers – this is our version of the MetroCard, but waaaaaaaaay cheaper oh and banana in hand. I get actually 4 steps in, until Mizz Bus Driver turns and says “Nu uh, no eatin’ on my bus!” I turn around, slightly confused, as I have eaten many times before on the bus, although not the same bus driver. So (bear in mind I had only been out of NYC for about 2 months at this point) I turn to her and with “sweetest” of voices, explain this to her, and turn right back to sit down. She repeats herself. I roll my eyes and realize this is going nowhere, and she won’t leave until her rules are followed! So, I go to take a step out of the bus to throw away the peel, and then, she does the unimaginable…she CLOSES THE DOOR AND BEGINS TO TAKE OFF….WITH MY BAG IN HER BUS!! Looking back, I probably looked pretty funny running after the bus beating on the door, yelling at her to stop.

She finally stops (not due to my beatings, but she’s at a red light, she HAS to) she reluctantly opens the door, glares me down, says “I told you, no eatin’ on my bus.”

If looks could kill, we would both still be in jail…