Bus F&%#

Something that M and I definitely have in common is that we are way into public transit. Neither of us has ever owned a car, nor will either of us get one in the near or distant future. (What, is she actually bragging about this? you’re probably thinking.)

I’m not bragging. The simple truth is that we are frickin’ losers without cars. The proverbial high school kids who can’t get laid because no cheerleader wants a dude who drives a Schwinn 10-speed.

As children and teens, we caught the bus to school at 7:30 every morning. When our friends were driving, we were smelling kids’ farts, taking a circuitous route that wasted hours each day, and getting nearly felt-up by Shane Duquette, the perverted teenage neighbour. But in adversity we found strength, and I wonder if that isn’t why we are so close today.

Some would think that a woman like M – a professional homeowner who dwells somewhere outside of the realm of convenience in her city – is crazy for not owning a vehicle. But I say she isn’t. (Nor do I include myself in her league, as I’m a nearly homeless amateur. But I am a woman.) I say we deserve our few measly beads of self-righteousness: smaller environmental footprint, better organizational skills, and a true sense of oneness with the rest of the hoi palloi. Plus, we never, ever have to be the designate drivers. I’ll take the bus and a beer over sober responsibility any damn day. Cheers, M!



H was so busy writing this, she missed the bus again.