OH PLEASE! SIT NEXT TO ME MR ALCOHOLIC

So for my Journalism English class, we are obviously given at least 8 papers to write per week and at least one of them have to be a short narrative essay. Writing creative essays out of no where with mild inspiration every week can be a daunting task which sometimes depletes my "no ends" brain to feeling like I have a raisin in my skull. So to end the constant dread of keeping up with the one of a kind witty reputation I've made for myself in class, I decided to write all my narrative essays on my insane metro experiences. Seeing as though I ride nearly every day, I'm almost guaranteed at least one crazy person screaming about religion to the whole back of the bus, spitting while they talk and living in a world where they think people are actually listening. This is one of my recent essays, I am so easily entertained, it's magical. 

Every day I ride the bus to school, and every day its a new and always exciting story. I wake up ridiculously early for school to give myself enough time to get ready or figure if I want to sleep in, but without a doubt, I will miss the bus. I have a routine, I ride my bike to the bus platform and as I pass by I watch the bus dock and take off before I make it across the street to lock my bike up. That gives me enough time to walk across the street back to the platform and wait for the bus to be late, but never in my favor. I climb aboard and search for the least creepy seating arrangement, sit, and people watch for the next thirty minutes til I arrive at my stop. People come and go, there are people that I consider the usuals and then there are the people that burn unforgettable images into my head associated with sounds and or smells. Just yesterday I sat on the three seat wide bench, giving optimal people watching view, the brightly colored seat next to me was open, and so were about fifteen other seats, but of course I will get the one individual that has to sit next to me, always. He was an older gentleman in relaxed attire that had been obviously relaxed in past its time. He smelled of someone working outside under the blistering sun for four days and used baby powder as an alter bath. I didn't mind, I'd turn the other way and continue on with watching the girl near the front of the bus lip sync to what looked like to me as R&B due to her head grooves and face making. But what I did not notice was that the man also had a Quizno's bag which could be filled with a lunch? No, it was defiantly a slightly brown leaking substance with the stench of my trash bins the day of pick up, accompanying that was a musk of Boon's Farm liquor as he breathed heavily over me like I didn't notice him staring at my body. I'm thinking to myself, "well at least men are still attracted to me" after my recent crash and burn of a relationship. But the awkwardness of this bus ride was going to an extreme as I felt it was necessary to explain to the man that if he didn't get back to his side of the seat, that I myself would make him. Thank God that at that very moment, it was my stop and my time to reflect on these events. I walked to class wondering what person starts their day out at ten am pounding not only Boon's Farm before they ride the bus, but even more caring around liquid garbage. Made me just say "people, they're so odd individually." And it's very true. Every time I ride the bus I feel like I get smarter, learning about our human race. The bus is always a good time, weather it's a bad time or not, I always have a story at the end of the day.