The inside of a bus is a very interesting place. You climb on, pay your fare, take a seat, and plug your headphones into your ears so you can enjoy your trip with a soundtrack. But, you have to make sure that you never make eye contact with anybody on the bus. The whole eye contact thing in the bus must be avoided at all costs. You might occasionally notice some old person, sitting several seats opposite you, who can’t manage to shake their glare. It’s as if they’re holding that stare to break a record they made on a previous bus journey. It is a pretty funny process, the way things unfold when you notice that somebody has locked their eyes on you. The first time it’s ok – you think that they’re eyes are just idly wandering around where they’re not even conscious of who they’re looking at. The second time you look up to see if they’re still looking it changes things. It changes things because you start to think that something is going on. You are aware of their gaze… and it ultimately gets to a stage where you can feel their eyes piercing through your skin. The third time you see them looking it feels like they’ve taken you hostage with their stare, and it fills you with some sort of paranoia. You feel kind of creeped out, because you’ve just sat on a bus, and some dude decides to undress you with his eyes – or so you think. Or maybe it’s because you’re wearing shit clothes… or maybe because you’re of some sort of ethnic background which is why the old man is waging war on you with his eyes…or perhaps it’s something simpler, like you not plucking your ugly monobrow, so the guy sitting across from you is enchanted by that furry growth sprouting from above your nose. Whatever it is, who the fuck cares? It’s creepy as fuck to be sitting there, having some guy continuously stare at you. It finally reaches the tipping point when these paranoia questions are flushed out by your annoyance and frustration that some dumb fuck is staring at you. Why the fuck is he staring at me, you think, and can’t this guy just fuck off? There’s a thing called bus etiquette, right? If not, then there should be, and I’d be more than happy to write that shit if it meant old farts stopped glaring at me on the bus. I mean, jesus, look out the window. The world is passing them by outside, and they appear to be more interested with you. It’s worse when you look like shit and you know it. It kind of burns more when someone is staring at you because you immediately think that person is reaffirming how shit you look. You decided to wear that homo Alf t-shirt you got a decade ago, and you thought that because you’re a Uni bum that it’d be acceptable. Of course, deep down you knew you looked like horse shit, but it’s alright when it’s just you who thinks that. The dude who stares at you is actually saying something to you. His eyes are saying “hey this guy looks like a dip shit. Im just going to stare at him now so he understands how much of a dip shit he looks like.” It works too, because you sit there and get all self conscious. And you start crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to conceal that embarrassing item of clothing. Fuck that.
The bus is a really, really strange place. The people inside look as if they’re on their way to a death camp. Everyone is so quiet and complacent, and have these looks on their faces like they ate a handful of lemons. Did someone fart? Nah, probably not, but everybody just looks so grim. The happiness that you thought once existed is immediately sucked out of their lives once they sit down in a bus. But it’s interesting to sit there and ponder about the people behind these sunken faces. Did that blonde woman get laid last night? Is that guy cheating on his wife? Does that teenager over there, listening to his iPod, actually make his money by dealing drugs to school kids in the area? Who the fuck knows? Regardless, you can get pretty creative.
The bus is a really, really strange place. The people inside look as if they’re on their way to a death camp. Everyone is so quiet and complacent, and have these looks on their faces like they ate a handful of lemons. Did someone fart? Nah, probably not, but everybody just looks so grim. The happiness that you thought once existed is immediately sucked out of their lives once they sit down in a bus. But it’s interesting to sit there and ponder about the people behind these sunken faces. Did that blonde woman get laid last night? Is that guy cheating on his wife? Does that teenager over there, listening to his iPod, actually make his money by dealing drugs to school kids in the area? Who the fuck knows? Regardless, you can get pretty creative.
