THE WHEELS ON THE BUS...
RE: "You're Riding the Bus Wrong" [Feature, Sept 23], in which Erik Henriksen explains the ways in which you're riding the bus wrong, so that you can stop riding the bus wrong.
DEAR MERCURY—I want to thank you for the info on the oxacillin-resistant staphylococcus aureus, fecal matter, and mom vomit. Now that I'm schooled on the impossible-to-clean seat cloth, I'll see you all on I-5 from my car, where I know whose vomit I'm sitting on.
Not Sorry Newcomer
DEAR MERCURY—I don't know what is a more dispiriting thought: that there are bus riders that expect their fellow passengers to purposely skip their stops to save themselves (perhaps) 10 seconds, or that there are people so meek that they would do this to appease the latter.
DEAR MERCURY—(1) I'll take the aisle seat and leave the window seat open. I do this because I'm what's known in the medical community as "very tall" and so I don't fit when facing fully front without some egregious manspreading. You know what, if you want that seat, you could try asking for it instead of not saying a word but rolling your eyes and sighing or clucking your tongue as you walk by. (2) What shitty, people-hating cities did you live in where people don't thank the bus driver? Shit, I lived in Boston for a few years, which is a city where the only way to survive is to be actively misanthropic, and everybody thanked the bus driver. Thank the fucking bus driver! What sort of asshole are you who thinks not thanking the driver is normal? (3) You missed what should be the first piece of advice based on my travels on the buses here: GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER BEFORE YOUR STOP. You don't need to wait for the bus to come to a complete stop before you hit send on your text message, then turn your phone off, then put your phone in your pocket, then get your bags off the floor, then stand up, then pick up your coat, then pick up your scarf, then put on your scarf, then put on your coat, then take your hat out of your pocket and put on your hat, then pick up your bag, then sling that bag over your shoulder, then pick up your other bag, then look into the bag because you left it unzipped and want to make sure you didn't drop everything, then zip that bag, then put that bag over your other shoulder, then look around your seat to see if you dropped something, and THEN walk to the door and leave. Anyway, I'm going to take a beta-blocker and a glass of vodka now to calm down before my next bus trip.
DEAR MERCURY—You forgot one important rule of riding the bus: Don't be a pedantic asshole! Fuck you, Erik! I can deal with the seat-hoggers, the speakerphone-music-blasters, and the oblivious first-timers, but it's the impatient, judgmental asshats like you—rolling their eyes and sneering—that make riding the bus a shitty experience. Fuck you, Erik! If there are seats available other than the one next to me, I'm gonna spread my legs and put my bag on the other seat because I want to be comfortable. If I get a call from a potential employer who might be offering me a better-paying job so I can someday afford a car and stop riding the goddamn bus, I'm gonna take that call and speak clearly. And if I'm sitting up front because no senior citizen or person with a disability needs that seat, I'm gonna get off through the front door, at my preferred fucking stop, because I pay $100 out of my crappy paycheck each month to do so. FUCK YOU, Erik! You're riding the bus wrong!
RORY! BY VIRTUE of a technicality (two or more "Fuck you, Eriks" in a single diatribe) you are taking home this week's Mercury letter of the week! This includes two tickets to the Laurelhurst Theater—and be sure to take the bus! (We can't afford any more angry drivers on the road.)