The 42 bus takes me almost door-to-door to work, so you can understand why it has been my preferred method of transportation. Despite the fact that it has a tendency to make me nauseous as it rapidly speeds up and slows down weaving through rush-hour traffic, the $1.25 ride has been well worth if for entertaining purposes. For those of you who don't ride public transportation, seats are more valuable than beach-front property in Miami. For some reason we despise standing even though we know we will be on our asses for the next 8 hours in some uncomfortable office chair.
This man, as seen above, had to settle for a seat next to the wheezing, fast-asleep fat man. The choice between having to stand for the long and windy ride or have a front-row seat next to a man whose snoring could be heard all throughout the bus was a difficult one, but ultimately, the open seat had to be claimed.
To further illustrate how valuable these seats are, a few days later, I found myself needing to unfortunately stand for part of the journey. Once a few seats opened up, I didn't hesitate to grab the first open one that I could.
Throughout the ride, I continued to smell a cigar. It wasn't the smell of a burning cigar, but rather it smelled as if it were caked on to someone's clothing. I didn't put much thought into it until I was the only one on the bus, and it still smelled as if it were coming from right next to me. It certainly wasn't me, because to me cigar smoking is equivalent to rolling shit up and lighting it on fire, then inhaling.
Finally, I turned to my right to look out the window and look what I saw jammed in the frame of the window?
Problem solved.
