The bus system we have here in Pittsburgh is called PAT. Some say "Pittsburgh Area Transit" but I say Pretty Awful Time. In the time since my last spasm, I have stood mostly between my Ross Township French chateau and the downtown terminus. And while standing, I often have the opportunity to experience something that smells like what you get when you cross a huge pile of wild onions with diarrhea. Yes, it's that bad. And new colognes and perfumes are being invented daily that rival syrup of Ipecac. For those of you who don't know what that is, look it up. Someday, when I am filthy rich, I'm going to have my chauffeur follow the bus route into town every work day and savor the clean smell of fresh filtered air scented ever so softly with lilac.
While I'm on the subject of riding the bus, there is something else that I have noticed. Electronic stuff. Stuff that you stick in your ears to totally blot out reality and take you to whatever musical world that you have downloaded from Napster or Rhapsody. Or, you stick your telephone up to your ear and begin talking in a 120 decibel voice to insure that you remind everyone around you that YOUR life is SO much sweeter than the plebeians that ride this cattle car. Or you take that same or similar electronic gizmo and begin to feverishly type out wee messages to most likely the President or the Pope advising him on how to better run things.
What all of this does is insure that our ability to converse in a sensible and interesting manner is being wiped out as fast as the Pet Rock. Not only do we not speak to our neighbors on the bus, but they don't DESERVE our time. Besides, they SMELL. WE matter, since it is all about us. Just look at that guy up in Vermont a couple of weeks ago who was hit by a car and laid in the street while people passed by. Well, at least they slowed down to check him out. So that makes us a caring people, right? We slowed down. But we never stopped texting, talking, or listening to Waylon Jennings sing the theme from the Dukes of Hazzard on our bleeding I-Pod as we passed by his injured body.
God made these people, people. And whether or not you like to admit it, He made them in His image. Oh sure, send me your atheist comments. I'll read them, because God made you too. And he made U-2. And He gave us brains (some less than others) and intellects and mouths to talk with so we can freely express what we think.
So if you see me on the bus, turn off your blasted electronic thingy and say hello. I'll most likely talk back, unless you just ate one of those double garlic pizzas with extra dead possum on it.