I take a short bus ride about once or twice a day. (It’s the ride that is short.) I know that cell phone etiquette is one of the casualties of our narcissistic culture. Still, I wonder what would happen if I tried to fight uncouthness with uncouthness by pretending that the offender of such etiquette is talking to me:

Fellow Passenger: Where you at?

Me: I’m on the bus, sitting across from you. And it’s “where are you at?”

FP gives me an odd look, failing to thank me for correcting his grammatical oversight.

FP: I’m just on my way up North Avenue. Gonna’ get me somethin’ to eat, then go see my boy Walt.

Me: My buddy Dave and I were up in that area once, and, get thi–

FP: Do you mind? I’m trying to conversate here.

Me: No, go ahead. I just like having a nice talk with strangers. People on the bus don’t usually talk to me.

FP: This bitch here is tryin’ to be cute. All interrupting me and shit.

Me: That bitch is rude.

Raising my voice,

Me: Excuse me! We’re trying to talk here. Could you guys please keep it down?

FP: Let me holler at you later, my man. I’m gonna’ bust this motherfucker’s head open.

Me: Ooh. Who is it? Is it that guy wit–


Lights out.

And on again.

Me: What hospital I at?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s