The Penalty Box

In reference to Greg’s post about bus rules, I came across two particularly brain-dead train riders yesterday who violated many of said rules.  The normal West Coast Express passenger is different from the typical bus or Skytrain passenger.  There aren’t any people with B.O. problems, there’s no one who’s too drunk to keep in his stomach contents, no homeless people and no creepy people who ask you to join them on a grout and tile adventure (story from another friend of mine).  Today I had the misfortune of overhearing a conversation rooted in self-centeredness and outright stupidity.  Two girls sat across from each other, and I was standing in preparation to get off at Waterfront station.  Here’s a sampling of some of the “discussion” (and I use that term very loosely, because it was more like a frat boy pump up talk).

Girl 1: “So I got on, and the bus driver was like ‘You need a fast track sticker to get that fare.’ And I was like ‘well, I didn’t know.  Can I just get on?’ And he was like ‘No, you’ll have to pay the full fare.’  I mean, what is that? It’s so gay.”
Girl 2: “I know what you mean.  I was about to get on a bus and my ticket expired like five minutes before.  There were a ton of people and the driver waved me on.  So when I sat down and everyone else sat down, the driver told me to get off the bus.  I swear he was just waiting to embarrass me in front of everyone.  What a power trip.”
Girl 1: “Yeah so like this other time the bus was starting to pull out and I was so NOT waiting another 15 minutes for the next one.  So I like banged on the back of the bus and ran up beside it.  The driver opened up and yelled at me, ‘You could’ve gotten seriously injured doing that.  Is catching the bus worth your life?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah.’  Like, what was he all about?”

It was at this point where I turned up the volume on my iPod and let the Barenaked Ladies tell me about the joys of Alcohol.