Please don't drool.....

You know the situation:

There you are sitting on a bus/train/plane.
The person next to you starts to fall asleep.
Slowly, inch by inch, they start to slide over towards you.
The further they sag, the more their mouth gapes. 
Next thing you know, there is a bump and they are practically laying on your shoulder with a steady stream of drool pooling on your shoulder.

If you are lucky, they kind of wake up, straighten up, and don't let it happen again. In my case, I'm in between lucky and not: the gentleman this morning on my bus woke up enough to sit up straight, but not enough to stop the cycle. So we went through this about five times this morning. Thankfully, I didn't end up with any drool on me...as far as I know!

Language of Transit

Throughout my time traveling on public transportation, I've listened into a lot of great stories. I've also had the opportunity to observe what people are reading.  Sometimes it is the expected NY Times Bestseller and sometimes the Bible, but every once in a while you get something unusual with crazy titles along the lines of "How to Beef Up Your Sex Life" and "The Difference Between Your Dog and Your Wife." Those are not the exact titles and I'm not even sure if they are books, but if not you are free to steal the title.  The best books are the ones covered in brown paper. You know it has to be something good....

But the other day, I saw something I had not seen before. There was a girl on my bus writing in what looked like a made-up language. Now, I love language. I have studied quite a few and seen even more in art, but this wasn't a real, sanctioned language. This was her own.  Then it made me wonder, what you be writing about on the bus that would need a secret language?

In The Beginning

Let me just introduce myself by saying there are not many things in this world that I truly hate. Driving on the highway is DEFINITELY one of those. And, well, I live over 25 miles from where I work in a state that has one of the top 15 worst traffic congestion in the country. Both of the highways I have to take are horrible. And I mean horrible. In constant construction since before I was born horrible. So being able to take the bus to work (and hopefully one day the train) makes it a little better. But it also makes my mornings and afternoons hilarious.

Let me give you an example of my typical morning: It is 6:30am on a bus that a year ago I would never have guessed would be so....well....flavorful.  Imagine, if you will, sitting on a bus, early in the morning, surrounded by heavy smokers who haven't showered what appears to be a month and also don't appear to have ever held down a real job. I mean, maybe they have, but I'm going to guess not since they prefer to swap stories about being in rehab all morning (I repeat, morning). Now, I haven't usually had any or very much coffee at this time and I find 6:30am to be too early to talk about shooting crack, but hey, everyone has their preference.

So one of these smelly mornings, there I am sitting in a nasty, packed bus with my earphones on when I hear through the song on my ipod these guys next to me talking about being in rehab and the such. One of them then goes on to say that he used to like to hang himself upside down and shoot up in the forehead. And when he didn't do that, he would blindly shoot up in the armpit.

*Blink blink*

I repeat: too early!
And who does that, serious?!