Bus-Riding Scum, I Am

Evil fucking bus of despair. Apparently.

Last week I was in Las Vegas. No debauchery, no (overly) lewd behavior. I was attending a convention. And on Sunday, stuck for a ride to Summerlin - which lies West of The Strip, I rode the bus.

Yes, the bus. The B-U-S.

And I realized: man, some people are judgmental motherfuckers.

Content to walk anywhere (hell, I’ve climbed Rainier, Whitney and Kilimanjaro…walking is NOTHING), I rolled my little carry-on suitcase and toted my laptop bag about a half mile from my brunch joint to the bus stop on Desert Inn and Paradise. Along the way, I witnessed – and was subject to – some nastiness.

At one point, some collegiate scholars leaned out the rolled-down window of their rented Ford Mustang convertible and shouted, “Get a car, girlie!” (Girlie?) At another, I had a J. Crew-clad empty-nester glare at me and swing wide of my position at the bus stop. I assure you that I had showered that morning and taken care with my hair and makeup. I actually looked kinda cute in my own estimation. I’d have fucked me.

It was evident that, to some on foot and others propelled by hot air and gasoline, I was bus-riding scum. Worth less because I was hopping on board an air-conditioned ride that took me directly to my destination for a whopping $1.75 instead of a $45 cab fare.

When I boarded the bus, however, no one looked at me differently. There I was with a huge box of condoms (promo pieces/business cards for my Dear Redhead column with ToyWithMe.com) and two other bags, but not one weird glance was lobbed in my direction while on the bus. I like the bus folk.

Life smacks you every now and then, and I’m glad I rode the bus on Sunday. I’m also glad for the douchebag-driven remark and onion-sniffing wrinkled nose of the fifty-something ex-debutante that passed me by. Makes you think twice about judging a book by its cover – and to be honest, what’s wrong with the bus anyway? I got to sit and think for the thirty minute ride and jot notes for future blog posts while fresh in my mind. All this while staring across the way at a teenage boy wearing a shirt that simply said “Yeah” and sitting next to a little girl who wanted to see what I was typing on my iPhone. So I loaded up Pee Monkey and let her play with it.

I’ll be bus-riding scum every day if I get to see that smile.