Dear Girl with Rose-Coloured Glasses,

I wasn't feeling particularly down or up today. But you came over and sat down next to me and asked me if I wanted to be your friend.

Now if I were to receive the exact same question from someone who looked like they were in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 60s or if they were male and a teenager, I'd probably wrinkle my nose in disgust and attempt to be polite in my declination of their offer.

But since I recognized (and knew!) the woman who was with you (Your 'au pair', I think she said she was? Whatever.). And she said it was okay to talk to me. And you're like... 4-5 and cute as a button. So of course when you asked to be my friend, I said "yes".

Of course, this was a really awkward conversation in that you're kind of young and you're kind of silly at times. Like for instance when you were telling me about this really super icky and gross boy that you know from school/pre-school. Because all he ever does is pull on your hair and try to trip you and then you said the funniest thing.

"I'm not going to date him, you know, that boy? He thinks I'm going to, but I'm not. Because when you date someone, you're practically married, you know. And you have to let them hold your hand and you have to let them kiss you or else they won't let you use their credit card to go shopping with. And I don't want to get married to anyone until I'm at least ten."

Do you realize how difficult it was for me not to laugh at that? I suggested waiting until you were at least twenty and then you asked how many fingers that was. Oh boy.

And really? All you have to do is hold their hand and let them kiss you from time to time and you get to use their credit card? Really? And I bet you think unicorns come into your backyard at night and that elves make your Christmas presents still. You'll learn.

But you know what? It's okay. Because when you're ten, you're going to realize that no one your age is getting married (not in this country, anyways). When you get to middle school, dating is like a contact sport. You touch someone and you're suddenly dating and it lasts for like... a week. A month, tops. Wait until high school, then you'll see that it gets a little bit more intense.

But I have to say... I never considered being fully reliant on someone as a life's goal. And I hope that changes for you. And that you don't become a gold digger, because that's not really that attractive.

Sincerely,
Over 10, but not married

Dear Saturday Stranger,

I generally don't take public transit on weekends if I can avoid it. If I can avoid it, I'll get a ride from someone or I'll drive myself. Then again, getting home from the public library when I had no clue where my personal chauffeur was is kind of tricky. And I wasn't about to trek home in the rain so... I took the bus.

I'm sitting down and about to get off at my regular stop. The bus is about to pull to my stop so I get up and walk to the door and then suddenly there's someone tapping my shoulder. Which was you. I was about to tell you off since I'd just about had it up to here with guys and public transit and the propositioning for sexual favours just three feet away from the bus driver and everyone else on the bus.

And you're holding out a cell phone.

Correction: you're holding out my cell phone.

Guess it's a good thing that I didn't bite your head off for touching me, eh?

And thank you so much for getting my cell phone back to me before I got off the bus. It probably wouldn't have been a very good thing if you or anyone else kept it. Just saying...

Thank you again.

Sincerely,
Girl who is not quite surgically attached to her cell phone.

Dear Munchkin,

I got on the bus fairly late this morning. I sat down in the second-to-last seat available on my way to school. Then you come running onto the bus, your mom right behind you, and you pull yourself up onto the seat next to me and you promptly fall right into me when the bus pulls away from the curb. You mumbled that you are really, really 'sowwie' and then sit back up properly again. Your mom sets a huge bag in front of you and she's standing there holding onto the pole.

You ask her for aww-paws and she pulls an apple for you and hands it to you.

You wave it around and ask her to 'start it' for you. It's not a practice that I'm familiar with and I noticed that she took the apple from you, took a bite out of it, then handed it back to you. Oh, that's what you meant by starting it for you.

Then you're happily munching on what's possibly the smallest apple in the history of ripe apples and then you look up and me and just go:

Do you wanna be my girlfriend?

I laughed and said that I try to avoid dating people when I don't even know their names.

So you introduced yourself.

I also mentioned that I didn't even know how old you were so you held up three fingers. And asked if I wanted to be your girlfriend because everyone at preschool has a girlfriend.

Even the girls? I asked and you just nodded your head as you took another bite out of the apple.

I politely declined and you looked downcasted before you looked up at your mom and went 'All done!' and handed her the apple core. You quickly forgot about the rejection that you received by the random person that you happened to fall into and sit next to on the bus on a dreary Friday morning.

I think you're going to be a heartbreaker one day - but maybe you should consider introducing yourself before asking any girl if they want to be your girlfriend (even if everyone else at preschool has one).

Sincerely,
Girl who can start her apples by herself

Dear Prepubescent Jerk,

I encounter a lot of stupid people on public transit. I encounter a lot of creepy older men, a lot of moronic people who make me very happy that there's such a thing as Natural Selection. Very happy.

This morning, I got onto the bus and instead of sitting near the back of the bus like I normally do - I was sitting on the left side of the bus, completely minding my own business (trying to ignore and drown on the excessive giggler) and then suddenly the bus driver pulled over to the side of the road and got out of his seat and told you to haul your ass off of the bus.

I was a little confused and people kind of fell silent. And I removed the earphones to better hear what the bus driver was bitching about. Were you smoking on the bus? Visibly drinking alcohol?

And then I saw it.

Really, did you really have to jerk off on the bus? Because, to be perfectly honest, that's really rather disgusting considering it was rolling down the window next to where you were sitting. Rolling. Down. The. Fucking. Window.

I mean, kid, just go home and do it in your bedroom or in the bathroom. You don't need to do it on public transit. I mean, maybe it helps with the whole "Ooooh, what if I get caught?" scenario. But when you're jerking off in public and it gets all over the window, it's disgusting. And indecent. And you could have been charged with public indecency.

Go home and do it in the privacy of your own home next time. Mmkay?

And I'll be making a mental note never to sit near the front of the bus on the right hand side of the bus ever again (for that route, anyways).

Sincerely,
Disgusted

Dear Excessive Giggler,

Do you realize how fucking annoying it is to be sitting on the bus, listening to music at a fairly moderate level (just enough to drown on the inane chattering that's going on on the bus but not so high that I can't hear emergency vehicles driving pass when they have sirens on) and then you come onto the bus. It's not my fault that the only available seat left when I got onto the bus was one near the back doors. It's also not my fault that you couldn't get a seat.

But did you really have to fucking to start giggling at every single little thing that your friend said?

The new Vancouver mayor. Giggle.
The new president. Giggle
The morning paper you had in your hand. Giggle.
The bus coming to a sudden stop. Giggle.
The other bus patrons wanting to come onto the bus, pushing by you. Giggle.

Fucking hell, woman. Could you have just stayed silent for one moment? No, of course not. I turn up the volume on my music and I could still fucking hear you.

Next time that I see you, I swear someone on the bus (maybe it'll be me, maybe it won't be) will duct tape your mouth shut.

Sincerely,
Annoyed

Dear Moronic Bitch,

Today, I was in the only line for the bus that I take. The. Only. Line.

The bus rolls up and people start filing on. I was third in line. To be fair I was actually the first person at the bus stop, I just didn't join into the line until the other two people showed up. You showed up maybe two minutes before the bus rolls up. You're somewhere by the garbage can (perhaps you should have stayed there...?) and then you go to the very front of the line - despite the fact that there's approximately 15+ people in the line behind me waiting to get onto the bus.

The guy in front of me steps onto the bus. That's fine, he was ahead of them. Then you step right in front of me and I take a step forward to go onto the bus and then you turn around, glare at me and call me a cunt for trying to 'butt in line' ahead of you. And then you go onto this whole spiel of how "preteen girls need to learn to show respect to their elders".

Seriously? Seriously?

Eighteen is not "preteen". Preteen is generally a term reserved for 11 and 12 year olds. And if you really want anyone to show you some respect, maybe you ought to show some common courtesy for the rest of the people in the world. Like... getting in line. And waiting. Just like everyone else. Plus, calling someone a cunt for wanting to get onto the bus when they were waiting in line long before you were in the line is a very rude thing to say.

So no... I don't really feel that bad for calling you a moronic bitch today. I should feel bad for it. If it were anyone else, I probably would. But I don't really feel bad about it at all.

Sincerely,
Annoyed

P.S. Readers, this lovely woman appeared to approximately mid-30s/early-40s. Really, show respect for that? No, thank you.

Dear Cat Lady,

It's Friday! It's the last day of the school/work week (for most people) and it is definitely a reason to celebrate. But imagine to my surprise when I woke up as the bus was pulling into a stop to pick up people and you walked on. You seemed to be struggling with a large cardboard box, so a man helped you carry it onto the bus. You had a ragged looking grey sweater that had a lot of holes in them and a large bag that jingled because you had a bell on the strap.

And then the meowing started.

You sat down and opened up your box and I peered over, only because I was curious. I was more than a little shocked to see maybe a dozen or more kittens in your box. You turned to the person who was sitting next to you and went "Say, would you like a kitty? Only thirty dollars each!"

I was more than a little disgusted that you were carting around a box that was over-crowded with kittens and they didn't seem to have a food dish or a water dish. You pulled out one with grey and white stripes and held the kitten out to the person on your other side and went "Look how adorable it is! Only thirty dollars!"

Eventually, you realized that there were no takers on the bus for random kittens and then you got off at another stop, dragging the box along with you and then, as the bus was about to pull away, you were sitting there at the stop. On top of the box. You were sitting on top of the cardboard box. That got rained on a little. You were sitting on top of a damp cardboard box that was holding at least a dozen kittens.

Stupidity is your strong suit.

Please don't ever have kittens in your possession again.

Sincerely,
Amateur animal activist

Dear The Navigational Challenged,

I spent my morning standing on the train today, it was good fun, until it reached the station where I get off. I wasn't impressed with the transit system today and I anticipated the train being overly crowded (I wasn't disappointed by that, at least) but then I was subjected to listening to you talk on the train, which was just not pleasant at all.

You were on your cell phone, talking to someone about how you were just 15 minutes away from the station where you needed to get off. Which is funny, because you were a) going in the opposite direction and b) you were approximately 40 minutes (and counting) away from the station.

Then as the trained slowed to a stop, it announced which station it was at and you were telling your friend that it was incorrect (I guess they heard it) and you knew exactly where you were going. Then you said that you had to go and looked up and around and then frowned and then leaned yourself over to the girl next to you (am I thankful I didn't snag that seat? A little, yes.) and asked her if this train took you to the station you wanted. Luckily she had a bit more skill with reading a simple map and informed you that you were going in the wrong direction.

You just shrugged and called your friend back, telling her or him that you'll be maybe 20 minutes instead. -buzzer sound- WRONG! Even if you transferred train lines, it'd still take you 40+ minutes to get there.

Perhaps next time, you really ought to just look up and check out the map?

Sincerely,
Girl who knows where she's going

Dear Silent Boy,

It was a very long day today. Actually, scratch that: it's still a very long day. The last thing that I wanted on my last bus home was being stuck next to someone who was talking my ear off because they needed someone to listen or someone to tell them that they're right or someone to just agree with them on whatever the hell they were going on about. I've heard more than I've ever needed to hear while waiting for a bus or train or while on a bus or a train.

So I sat down on the bus, bag at my feet and my cell phone in my hands as I debated texting someone to lament about my day. I didn't, but it didn't mean that I wanted to hear about someone else's day.

But luckily, so very luckily for me, you came onto the bus. You looked a bit shy, you mumbled to the bus driver before dropping a handful of coins into the machine to get your fare. You took the ticket and then shuffled along until the first available seat. The one next to me.

I was fiddling with my mp3 player to change the song (and increase the volume) when you sat down. You put your bag neatly in front of you and folded your hands and stared straight ahead.

I must confess I'm not used to this type of behavior. Certainly not by someone who's around 14 or 15 (and before anyone calls on me for judging based on looks, he was carrying a Math 10 textbook). But you were perfectly silent, just staring straight ahead and the only words you spoke to me were "Pardon me" when you reached over my head to pull to alert the driver that you wanted to get off at the next stop.

So I'm just writing this to let you know that I greatly appreciated not having my ear talked off on such a very long day.

Sincerely,
Tired Girl

Dear Mistaken,

I sat down on the bus first and you sat down right next to me. I had my headphones on and was listening to some pretty decent music. I kept to myself, reading my copy of the paper and having my bag at my feet. You sat down next to me and you had a copy of the same paper and then you turned and looked at me.

Man: Excuse me?
Me: *ignores*
Man: Excuse me? (a little louder this time)
Me: *sighing, a little annoyed, takes off headphones* Yes?
Man: I'm sorry to bother you but...
Me: Then don't.
Man: But you look just like my exgirlfriend.

Now I could have taken this in so many ways. You looked to be probably in your early to mid thirties. So I had to bite my tongue from going "So you were dating someone who wasn't even the legal drinking age yet?" - but I thought that would be mean.

Me: ...
Man: It's sounds crazy, I know. But you look just like her.
Me: That's nice...
Man: Women, my God, they're all insane though.
Me: ... Really... *wishing to go back in time and sit down next to that little old lady across the aisle with the knitting instead*
Man: You know why she broke up with me?
Me: *is attempting to read the comics at this point*
Man: You know why she broke up with me?
Me: I'm sure you're going to tell me... *continues reading comics*
Man: She said I was too unstable. That I just couldn't do anything right.
Me: *bites tongue*
Man: Can you believe it? Why would she say such a thing?
Me: *ignores*
Man: *rattles on*

Seriously, next time you feel the need to dump all of your problems on someone who happens to look like your exgirlfriend... Maybe you should consider a therapist. Not a university student who was attempting to read the news and really trying to ignore you. And if you do want to use me as a therapist again, I'll be charging you $20 for the duration of the bus ride - just for the sake of balance in the world.

Dear Kind Strangers,

Yesterday afternoon while I was on the bus going home I flashed my bus pass to the driver as usual and found somewhere to sit down. One of you sat down next to me and pulled out knitting (speaking of which, if I ever want to get that scarf done, I should start knitting it again).

And the thing is, I do attempt to avoid making public scenes. But something just... I don't know. And the next thing I knew, I was crying. Not like heaving sobs or anything. Just.. quiet tears. And someone noticed. And that person attracted the attention of more.

And I guess what I want to say is... Thank you. Thank you for taking the time to be concerned over someone you didn't know. Thank you for offering tissues and hugs. Thank you for just being there, even if I didn't explain a thing.

Sincerely,
Me

Dear Bus Driver,

This morning you pulled up behind the other bus and opened up your bus' doors. You basically caused chaos and those neat, single-filed lines to fall into disarray because no on was paying attention to who was where first. I didn't mind that too much - I wouldn't have gotten a seat on the bus otherwise. I broke from the line and ran (yes, ran - as in physical exercise, look what you made me do, Mister Bus Driver!).

You waited until everyone had gotten on before you pulled away from the curb (before the other bus too, tsk tsk) and continued on your merry way. You asked if people were having a good time, and those that were still awake did answer you. There was a general consensus that consist of "Ehhh" but what would you really expect when it wasn't even 8am yet?

At the first stop, when the bus was still overly full and there were a lot of people standing, you quipped something that I (at a pre-8am state) thought was quite funny. "Don't push and shove, folks! If you can't get to the door, just use a window. Remember to duck and roll!"

Now I'm sure you were joking, but you did happen to get one woman questioning you, who seemed to think that you were, in fact, serious. After all, she was asking you how to get the windows opened and she seemed quite insistent on following your orders of ducking and rolling.

But despite the odd person who took your joking seriously, you were a rather pleasant and cheerful bus driver and I must say I enjoyed this morning's ride significantly more than I normally do.

Thank you,
A transit user

P.S. I wonder if you or your fellow bus drivers keep blogs about the crazy patrons that you encounter on a day-to-day basis. If so, I would love to compare notes.

Dear Social,

I got on the bus before you this afternoon. We both got on at the bus loop by the mall and you sat down in front of me with, what I assume to be, your girlfriend. I say 'assume' because I can never tell if people are the type to make-out with people that they're not dating while riding public transit. Perhaps it's a nervous habit of yours.

But that is besides the point.

As the bus was pulling away from the stop and moving to get onto the street, there was a teenaged girl standing at the crosswalk and waiting for the bus we were in to round the corner. You turned your head first and went "Ohmifuckinggawd, it's Nicole!"

Your (girl)friend turns her head and goes "Ohmigawwwwd, it is, like, Nicole! What's she doing by herself?"

You reply: "I don't know. But that's so weird. She's, like, never alone. It'd be, like, seeing you alone."

...

(Yes, you really did say that many 'like's in your sentences. Like, for real. You could not stop. It was rather pathetic and I feel sorry for the English language.)

Now I realize, as much as the next person, that humans are fairly social. If you look to one of our closer animal relatives (monkeys), they are fairly social. They spend a lot of time together and are all very touchy-feely with one another. That isn't to say that they're incapable of being by themselves. There is nothing wrong with going to a bus stop by yourself or leaving the mall by yourself.

But then you pulled out your cell phone and told the girl next to you that you "Totally have to, like, text this to everyone."

Good job, kid. Because seeing a girl you know walking to the bus stop by herself is absolutely text-worthy. I mean, you could text about what you bought at the mall or that you're going to be late going somewhere or anything else, really. Instead, you were going to be texting "everyone" about how you saw this girl walking to the bus loop by herself.

Can you hear yourself speaking? Do you ever pause and reflect on the crap that comes spewing out of your mouth in the form of words? Or do you just move on, completely forgetting what you said 5 seconds ago because your memory can span around the same amount of time as a common goldfish? "Oh, look! A castle! ... Oh, look! A castle!"

There are so many more things that are more earth-shattering and more interesting and would make you look just the slightest bit more intellectual (because, trust me, you are in need of some IQ points) beyond seeing someone being by themselves.

If we can't be by ourselves, how can we truly appreciate the people around us when we have them?

Sincerely,
Antisocial Butterfly

Dear Graffiti Artist,

I appreciate art as much as the next person. I like Vincent van Gogh's Sunflowers and The Starry Night. I appreciate Monet and Dali and Picasso. I can also appreciate art done by people who aren't dead yet. I mean, sure, I'm not a fan of the Mona Lisa - but I do like art.

However, sitting down on the bus and looking up at the back of the seat that's in front of me and seeing a clean, plastic side is rather nice. Sitting down on the bus and looking up at the back of the seat that's in front of me and seeing phone numbers and "Call Anne for a good time at..." messages are rather annoying. Sitting down on the bus and looking up at the back of the seat that's in front of me and seeing random doodles of flowers, I can live with that. I doodle flowers and hearts and stars (yes, such typical girly things to doodle in the page margins) sometimes if I'm really bored.

But today, I sat down in an empty seat and looked up at the back of the seat that was in front of me and I saw a rather detailed image, mostly likely drawn with a Sharpie. I mean, I would say that you have some pretty good talent. Things were proportional, the angles were nice. You drew a scene. A girl on a couch, a guy by her side. Or rather, a guy on her and the girl struggling. There were cat ears on her, a tail slinking down the side, claws out. But you, and I'm assuming you're either a guy, drew the women with next to no clothing on.

Great. I kind of expected that. But what I didn't count on was the fact, that if I paid a little bit more attention to the image that I meant to, I could see that all the details you drew for the guy. The shadow of what was underneath his clothing, the way the hair was all brushed off to one side.

You have talent, I will grant you that. But you should be, perhaps, a little more selective in your canvas. But I guess if you're just looking to shock people and get your art out there, it's not a bad way to go.

Too bad they'll occasionally clean the buses and will take cleaners/bleach to it.

Sincerely,
Can't draw to save her life

Dear Owners of a Bundle of Joy,

I stood in the bus line. Yes, I realize that people have nicotine addictions. Yes, I realize that secondhand smoke is kind of unavoidable if I'm standing in a line. But if I really wanted to, I could just step out of line. I could move to stand downwind from you. I am physically capable of doing that.

Your baby, that precious little bundle of joy, who was sitting in her stroller sleeping?

She doesn't have a choice.

Both of you were smoking, rolling the stroller back and forth in what I can only assume is like a rocking motion for the baby.

You made the decision to give birth to your child. You keep her dressed and in a fancy stroller with toys hanging down in front of her. There were things that made rattling sounds, lights, mirrors, stuffies for her to chew on. You make all these decisions to better her life and her development.

But you're willing to smoke around her.

I don't get that, really I do not. I mean, you're willing to make all these decisions to make sure she's safe, happy, entertained and loved. But you will smoke around this baby. If she was a teenager, I wouldn't care because she would be capable of moving away from you. But instead, you're standing there, both with a cigarette in your hand and you both smoke and blow out smoke at the same time.

And there was no wind today. So I could see the cigarette smoke just drifting down and hanging around the stroller. And there was your little girl, just sleeping. And inhaling, and exhaling. Can you imagine what kind of effect that secondhand smoke is going to have on her three years from now? Ten years from now?

You have the chance to keep her healthy and safe. Instead, you're exposing her to something that could cause her to have asthma, to develop respiratory issues and other health problems. You have the chance to do right by her. And instead, you both stood there, smoking while your baby was sleeping.

If there was an award for the stupid parenting moves, I'm sure exposing your child to secondhand smoke on a daily basis would be up there, right under 'driving drunk with your child in the backseat'.

Sincerely,
A Coughing Fit

Dear Wannabe Druggies,

Today I was on the bus going home. The bus routinely stops at a bus stop near an elementary school. You two (two little boys, probably attend that elementary school across the street - cannot be more than ten years old age) got onto the bus, paid your bus fare and then started stomping towards the back of the bus. But you noticed that the back was full before you got all the way there so you sat down in the seats across the aisle from me.

I ignored you, like I normally attempt to do with people on the bus. I generally fail at this, I will admit, but then it wasn't my fault that I noticed what you were doing when I adverted my eyes from the sun.

You boys pulled out one of those pixie sticks out of your backpack (for those who are unsure, pixie sticks is basically flavoured sugar that comes in a plastic tube and is generally knocked back - I don't know why people just don't eat white granulated sugar sometimes). One of you bit the top side of it and opened it that way. Then you two separated the contents of the tube into your waiting palms.

And then instead of tossing it back like most kids do, you proceeded to snort it up. Like someone would do a line of coke, except you were snorting up a small pile of what amounts to sugar.

And then, oh dear, and then one of you said "Hey, if we get real good at this, my sister said that she'd be able to get us some coke." And then the other responded with "Sweet."

Then you two finished snorting up your pixie stick sugar, knocked back the rest, brushed off your hands and pulled the cord to signal to the driver that you wanted to get off.

And honestly, what the hell do they teach you in school these days? That it's okay to become a drug addict? That drugs are cool? Are you trying to mimic someone you saw in a music video or a movie? Because it's not cool. Your major concern at the age of 10 is if your mom is going to be putting a chocolate pudding into your lunch on Friday, or if you're going to get picked first for dodgeball in gym class. It should not be 'How fast we can get decent at snorting up sugar in order to get the sister to score us some coke'. You two honestly have some warped priorities and I sincerely hope that someone knocks some sense into you. And soon.

Sincerely,
Straightedge

Dear Old Bat,

So I was patiently patiently in an incredibly long line-up for the bus. It was very long, it went past four storefronts and continued snaking around the concourse of the undercover area that connected the train station with the bus stop. So everyone's a little grumpy due to the fact that there are limited seats on the bus and too many people wanting to get on it. But, for the most part, people are very polite in the morning and try to avoid pushing and shoving and we all line up in a single-file row to get onto the bus.

And by 'we all', I really don't include you.

You seemed nice enough, a little old lady with a cane and a huge and ugly sweater on with a brightly flowered skirt and very scuffed looking shoes on. You were rocking back and forth on your heels and just walked up to someone in the line and started talking to them. They didn't pay you any attention so you just walked away and then, when the bus was rolling up, you walked straight over to the front of the line and went 'Excuse me, dear' to the man that was at the front of the line, and got onto the bus.

Now this poses a few issues. One, you were cutting in line and just jumping the queue which is incredibly rude seeing as everyone else was lining up and waiting for their turn to get onto the bus. Two, if you had been in your 20s and were male, I'm sure than the man in the front of the line would have told you off - instead you're probably pushing 65 and female and look like a fragile little old lady. If he had told you off, you probably would have cried out harassment or assault. Three, there were other women who were probably as fragile looking as you were, but they were waiting in line just like everyone else - and your example isn't particularly good for everyone involved. And four, I just don't like people who just walk onto the bus when there's a line-up over a hundred metres long.

So no, I don't care that you're old or that you're frail or that you require the use of cane. If you are capable of walking your ass over to the front of the line from wherever you came from, you are perfectly capable of standing and waiting in line to get onto the bus instead of just cutting in front of a whole mess of people. Next time, you probably won't be cutting in front of someone so understand, you might be cutting in front of someone like me.

Sincerely,
Ticked-Off

Dear Mister Anatomy,

I spent roughly 30 minutes in a line up, holding onto roughly 20+ pounds (yes, lbs) of textbooks. Did I do it because I thought it would be fun? Umm... No. I did it because I needed this Human Anatomy and Physiology textbook for my biology course. Which is all fine and dandy. I had my backpack on, I was holding onto the textbooks in my arms in front of me and I got onto the bus with no problem. The bus ride was fine, my legs were a little sore from having so much weight on them for a relatively long period of time - but that was okay.

Then I got to the train station. I got a seat and I had my bag on the floor in front of me between my legs and my brand new textbooks on my lap. The cover was facing up (it's a woman doing ballet, it's actually a rather pretty photograph) with the words 'Anatomy and Physiology - 8th edition' clearly staring up at the ceiling of the train car.

And my transit experience today had so far been going fairly well - until you came along. You got onto the train car and sat down next to me. You tilted your head a little to check out the title of my textbook and then you made this stellar comment:

You really don't have to take a class on anatomy, you know. I could help teach you about the male anatomy.

I politely declined and you looked a bit disappointed, but then you gathered up your things and told me to reconsider it before you left the train car after the doors opened at the next station.

I never like being hit on while I'm riding public transit - it just makes me feel disgusted and wondering what the hell I'm doing wrong that I do get attention like this (and please, no one comment with "well if you stopped having your hair in pigtails while holding onto a clipboard with your school's insignia on it..."). But I don't know, what does a girl do in a situation such as this?

Sincerely,
Girl with the Heavy Bag

Dear Ghost Girl,

I was sitting in the train car first. Listening to music and minding my own business. I had my arms around my unfortunately heavy backpack and watched as the train rolled to stop at the next station to let people on. You walked in and sat down right across the aisle from me.

There was this moment when I just thought I recognized you. But something was different that made me hesitate to say your name out loud. Perhaps it was the sunglasses covering your face, perhaps it was the fact that you were keeping to yourself, as people tend to do on public transit. Perhaps it was because you looked more pale than usual, more white as a sheet, more ghost like. Or even perhaps it was because your hair was far too dark to be you. There were just so many things that were different that made me hesitate.

What if I say the wrong name? What if everyone looks at me like I'm crazy for randomly spouting off someone's name in the middle of the train car? What if you had earphones in and couldn't hear me speak?

But despite the sunglasses, your ghost-like appearance and the too-dark hair, I spoke your name out loud only to have you look up and go 'Hey!'.

So I guess in reality, this is not a letter to stranger. But sometimes, just sometimes, girls who are surrounded by perverts, morons and disgusting people on public transit are rescued by someone that she knows.

Sincerely,
Not-Mistaken

Dear Jerk/Asshole,

While I was on my way home today, I happened to get a seat on the train. Which is rather nice (and was expected, considering I get on at the first station). But then you got on at the next station and you started talking. Loudly, might I add.

While I appreciate that everyone feels that the trains are overly crowded (they are, as it is common for back-to-school) and everyone feels that there aren't enough seats (or rather, there's not enough train cars), I do have one complaint about your conversation that you were having with your friend.

You stated (and I quote): All women are either bimbos or hags. They'll either put out on the first date or expect you to wait until they get a ball and chain around your ankle.

Now let's assume that you are correct. urbandictionary.com tells me that a bimbo is "A girl who is stupid, wears lots of make up and is obsessed with boys and clothes. Generally blonde but there are exceptions. Usually hang around with other bimbos. You can spot them because they will be the big group of girls that all look the same and are giggling hysterically." The definition for a hag is "An unattractive, middle-aged (or slightly older) woman. The term is commonly used to describe hysterical or ugly women in positions of power."

Now, if this were true (and all women are either a bimbo or a hag) then I am either stupid, with a face caked with makeup, obsessed with both men and clothing and blonde. Or, I'm unattractive, middle-aged (or older) and in a position of power.

Well. I can't be a bimbo because I don't wear an absurd amount of makeup and I don't think that I'm that stupid. And I can't be a hag because I'm not middle-aged or in a position of power. Then what on earth am I?

I think you need to throw in a third category for everyone who's not stuffy, stupid or power-hungry.

Let's call it "women who just act like themselves and don't fall into a stereotype". But let's just say that you're right and that all women are bimbos or hags. Because I'm sure if someone were to argue with you while we were on the train, you would have called them one or the other.

And while we're at it, how about we could it up with only two categories for men: Jerks and Assholes. Guess which one you fit into!

Sincerely,
Girl Without Stereotype

Dear Misinformed,

This morning was my first day back at school. The buses and train cars were overly crowded, as always, but I sucked it up and got on and got back into the swing of things and managed to always get seats (go me). However, I did have an issue getting onto my first bus.

I got onto the bus with no problem after flashing my bus pass, but then halfway to the train station, the bus drivers switched and you asked to see everyone's proof that they had paid the fare. Okay, that's no biggie because I have a bus pass. I show it to you and you took it from me, flipped it over to see that there's a magnetic strip on the back and then you frowned.

You thought it was a fake because you hadn't seen the new bus pass yet for my school. So you called me on it, wanting to know why it was purple. Because, according to you, it was supposed to be pink (the colour of the summer term). I tried to explain that it was the one that I got in the mail (true) and as far as I knew, it was the correct colour as it also listed what the expiry date was (April 2009). So as far as I knew, it was the correct one.

I argued with you for like 3 minutes, telling you that it was an actual pass before I finally just got up, walked right past you and put it into the fare checker at the front of the bus by the driver's seat. I put it in, the machine beeped to say that it was fine and spat it back out. I pulled out my bus pass and sat back down with this oh-so-smug look on my face.

You didn't look pleased, but at least you didn't try to throw me off the bus. And for that, I thank you.

But if I ever see you again and if you ever question my bus pass again, I will call you on harassment since (if you do it again) it would count as harassment.

Sincerely,
Girl with the Purple Bus Pass

Dear Mister Bus Driver,

I hopped onto the bus and within five minutes you were addressing the entire bus, informing us that we should keep our feet on the floor of the bus at all times, that we should keep our feet inside the bus and off of other seats because this was not our living room or bedroom, this was public transit.

I thought you were great for doing that, since it's gross when people have their bare feet against the poles that people touch with their hands.

Of course, the best part about you being the bus driver was that when you announced stops, you also announced which buses that people could transfer to, where the buses went and what numbers those buses where.

Seriously, you were the best driver I've had in a while.

Plus, telling people to keep their feet down or get off your bus? Very nicely done. Considering it's a disgusting habit that people have. I get having your shoes off when you're in your own car, because it is your own car. But in public transportation? Where there's chewed gum on the floor and occasionally on the seats and such? Gross.

Dear Man in Blue,

I think it's commendable that you feel the need to inform the people in charge of the transit system that you find it faulty because the bus didn't show up for an hour. I understand your frustration because everyone else that was waiting for the same bus (myself include) was also very frustrated.

But when you start throwing things down onto the ground and just at no one in particular around you... You no longer appear frustrated, but maybe a touch mental. You threw down your bag. You threw down your blue jacket. You threw down your sunglasses, your transit pass. You threw down what remained of your lunch and probably whatever change you got from your bag of fast food.

You shouted obscenities at people and demanded, from everyone, to know when the bus was arriving and why was it so late.

And the odd thing is that when the bus finally did arrive... You didn't get on. You shouted at the driver, told him that he was damned late and you had lost an hour out of your life that you will never get back and then you just picked up all your things and left.

Dear Blue Eyes,

So I was feeling pretty down today, mostly because I was feeling sick this morning (only a small part due to the fact that I had an exam at noon, mostly because I have been sick for the last few days). I look up across me from the bus and I see you sitting there, reading a book. You had sunglasses on, those dark ones that I always find that make someone intriguing and you push them up onto the top of your head to reveal those blue eyes. You smile a little, possibly to yourself, and you flipped the page.

And what strikes me as funny is that I used always glance over at people wearing sunglasses. And now that I've started wearing them, I've noticed that more people looking at me, glancing my way. And I couldn't stop looking at you. Which was pretty much incredibly embarrassing once I caught myself looking.

But seriously, beautiful blue eyes. And I know that you attend the same school because I recognized the logo on your jacket (plus, you know, it said the school name and the name of a sports team). You just had this cute smile and you kept on looking up. Which was nice, considering I was directly across from you.

I would have said something, I would have. Only, you know, I wasn't feeling good and my voice has been coming and going all day. I didn't particularly want to start off a conversation with clearing my throat or a hacking cough.

Most sincerely,
Very intrigued with men who wear sunglasses

Dear Mister Truthful,

Yesterday while I was waiting for the bus, you were walking around. Dressed in scruffy clothes, you looked a bit dazed, a bit confused. Never one to willingly interact with people I don't know, I kept silent and was listening to the up-beat rock that was flowing into my head, courtesy of my headphones. You started addressing people, telling them who they were, what they were and how damn awful they should all feel. But you were only addressing the woman, you disregarded the men as if they were not there, as if they were not worthy of your time.

One woman was Satan's whore. Another was Satan's bastard daughter. Satan's wife, Satan's cousin, Satan's mistress, Satan's slut.

One by one you labeled the women as you walked around. You would stop in front of each one and tell them exactly who they were in your mind. And then you stopped in front of me and just smiled, almost cheerfully as if you hadn't been insulting the woman before me and as if you weren't going to be insulting the woman two people away from me.

"Satan's master," you called me.

And to be honest, I didn't mind it very much. My friends and I have an on going joke that I rule hell. And, well, as Satan's master that's exactly what I'd be doing. So thank you for being the first one out of my circle of friends to acknowledge all that evil, pent-up power that I have. It certainly made my day and made me smile. I said thank-you and you moved onto the woman after me in the line up for the bus.

Thank you for being honest,
Satan's Master

Dear Woman with the Cell Phone,

You sat down next to me on the bus this evening, I had no problem with that. You pulled out your phone and started chatting with your friend, I also had no problem with that. What I do have a problem is was that you pulled out your cell phone, started chatting with your friend and then proceeded to loudly tell your friend all about how your vagina was itchy.

Yes, it's all find and dandy that you are having issues with your girly bits. But must you really yell these problems out into your cell phone so that everyone else can hear it as well? Honestly, is it so much to ask for you to just whisper the damn problems that you have with your current (I'm assuming this part) yeast infection to your friend? Just go to the doctor, get something for it, and keep your trap shut about it on the bus. Decorum, woman, something that you do not possess.

So go to your bookshelf, pick up a dictionary and find the word, realize that you don't possess any, and then find some. I'm sure it's available on eBay.

Dear Little Girl,

I was minding my own business while I was sitting down on the train, honest. It was not my fault that you and your equally young looking friend sat down down in front of me. At first glance, I would have said that you two were around grade 10, 16 years old or so. And goodness, wasn't I surprised when I overheard your conversation? (F is 'friend' and Y is 'you')

F: You're so lucky! You've got to be the only girl in our school dating someone that's four years older!
Y: I know, right? He's awesome.
F: And cute. I can't believe you're dating a guy in grade 11.

[Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold it. Grade 11? Four years older? That's right readers, depending on when he and she were both born, she's either in grade 7 or grade 8.]

Y: Yeah, I was talking to my mom last night.
F: Oh, what did she say?
Y: She's totally cool with it. She said that if I'm dating a guy in grade 11, I should expect that he'll want me to put out. She made us appointments so that I can everything wax.
F: Oh, that's so exciting!

You're in grade 7 (or 8, I don't know when you were born). That means you're either 12 or 13. And you're dating someone who's in grade 11 (ages 16 or 17)? And your mother allows this? She's even encouraging you do to this by taking you out to get waxed? That is not exciting, that is painful. Very, very, very painful. I cannot believe that your mother is telling you that the boy would expect to have sex (although it is true) and then encouraging it further by getting you ready for it.

When I was 12, my largest concern was if my crush-of-the-week liked me back. Your biggest concern at 12? Bikini or Brazilian. Does that sound remotely normal in today's society? You should be worrying about regular pre-teen stuff. Like when the new episode of Gossip Girl is going to be on, not having your mother tell you that you're going to be expected to spread your legs, so you better get ready. And what does that say about your grade 11 boyfriend? He can't get a girl in high school? He can't get a girl his own age? He has to resort to someone who's barely a teenager? It's a social taboo to be dating someone that many years older/younger than you are when you're still in grade school.

Seriously, once you get out of high school, flirting and dating and kissing guys that are like 6 years older than you, is not that big of a deal because when you talk about him, you're not going 'Oh, he's in grade 11'. It's more like 'Oh, he works [here]' or 'He goes to the same university/college as I do'. That's fine.

Besides, the legal age for sex in Canada is 14. You're (at most) 13. Seriously, keep your legs shut and seriously think of why your oh-so-hot grade 11 boyfriend can't find a girl in high school to date.

(Please note, it's definitely not because you're more mature than they are.)

Dear Girl in Pink,

I was having a horrible day today. I generally do, whenever I just finish having a midterm that's worth more than 5% that I cannot even be sure if I passed or not. I managed to stay with a scowl on my face on the bus and for a short period of time on the train. I managed to keep this scowl until you can running onto the train car when it reached the station and your mom came jogging in after you.

You seemed to be quite young, maybe around two, and you needed your mother's help getting up onto the seat. You had a great big smile on your face and you nodded and shook your head at your mother's questions, sending your long pigtails swinging around your head. What I first noticed was the fact that you had on pink rainboots that happened to have yellow ducks on them as well. I thought that they were really cute and noticed that you had on a pink winter jacket as well. But what I really noticed, was how happily and gleefully you would giggle away when your mom hid her eyes from you and then revealed them again. You would giggle and giggle as if it was the greatest game ever invented. You just seemed so happy that she was playing Peek-A-Boo with you, that you were all smiles for your entire trip on the train.

And watching you get so excited and so happy other something that seemed so simple made me sad. When did I outgrow the peek-a-boo being enough to make me happy? When did I go from looking up and loving my parents unconditionally to rolling my eyes at their advice and being annoyed whenever they told me to do something? When did I get to the point that simple things didn't do as much as they used to when I was that age? It sad that we as a society have progressed to the point that simple things like that are only reserved for children. Simple gestures are overlooked, simple actions are disregarded, simple words are considered mundane. It's a sad thought that the world doesn't work like that, that in the society where I live, happiness is based almost solely on monetary value.

To show you love someone, you buy them a bouquet of roses, you don't go and pick wildflowers or grow them yourself. To thank someone, you send them a gift that you bought, rather than making something yourself. To make someone happy, you don't just cover your eyes and go 'peek-a-boo', you buy them something.

It is disheartening, but I must thank this Girl in Pink for reminding me that there were once simpler times. While those who are about the age of five can no longer see that, there are still some who can find happiness in what we consider to be simple acts of love.

Dear Transit Company,

I realize that snow is not good. Especially when the streets do not get plowed, there is too much snow on the sides of the streets and there are trouble getting things done. I got on the 4:10pm bus to go home. I will generally get home at about 4:30 or 4:35. I got home at 5:30pm. How? Oh... Dearest transit... I'm about to tell you.

The 3:50 bus was on C Street, the corner of it, actually, and had hazard lights on. My bus was behind it because C St. was too small to get around the first bus. The 4:30 and the 4:50 bus were also on the same block of C St. Yeah, that was great. Really, it was. Could the first bus have not called the transit people to tell them that they would be blocking the street?

At around 5:00pm, everyone on the first three buses all piled off and got onto the fourth bus and somehow the first three buses all moved out of the way. The fourth bus? This magical bus that was somehow supposed to get me to my stop? Yeah... It started rolling backwards. It had trouble at every single stop that the bus had to stop at to let people off. It was a joy, really.

So, dearest transit company... Please, pretty, pretty please, invest some money in better snow tires. Invest some money on better communication tools. Invest some money in being able to physically run buses on days were there is snow. I still love you, really I do. You're saving me a huge amount of money each month with my discounted student pass, so I do love you.

But your incapabilities of running trains or buses while it is snowing is a pain. So... Fuck you.

Dear Computer Guy,

I am a huge fan of technology, I am. I'm a huge fan of being about to access the internet even if I'm moving around, I'm a huge fan of receiving and sending text messages, I'm a huge fan of laptops in general. But that is besides the point.

You were sitting in front of me on the bus and you pulled out your laptop and turned it on. It only took a moment before your screen blinked to life and you got onto your desktop and opened up a movie-viewing program and started watching a film.

I didn't really pay attention to you at first because you looked so... passive. Dressed smart with a button down dress shirt, pressed jacket that matched your pants, black dress shoes (I sat down first, so I did notice this). You just looked like a young businessman wanting to get home after a day at the office. You were clean cut, no stubble and, last but not least, a gold band on your left ring finger.

As I stated before, I am a huge fan of technology. But if you're going to be watching your pornographic films on your laptop, could you at least turn the volume down or off? Or better yet, plug in a set of headphones?

You had the volume loud enough so that I could hear it over one of the louder songs of the Les Miserables (Original Broadway Cast Recording). I mean, seriously, you had the volume up pretty high.

I thought I was hearing things at first, so I pulled out one of my earphones and then realized that yes, I wasn't hearing things. I looked around and then looked forward and certainly got an eyeful.

I don't have a problem with pornography, I don't have a problem with the people who choose to watch it or choose to be in it. I do, however, have a problem with the people (ie. you) who choose to watch it in public with the volume turned way up when there were children under the age of five on the bus. I mean, I suppose you could claim that it's educational (in a sense), but seeing women being held in bondage and men holding the whips isn't rather educational.

So next time that you feel like getting off on the bus, could you please either wait until you get home, turn the volume off (or down?) or just plug in a set of headphones so no one has to hear the moans and groans of the paid actors and actresses of a pornographic film? It would just be respectful to the people around you.

Dear Disrespectful,

So the train platform was crowded like it normally is. There were a lot of people just waiting for the train to show up. Which is fine, because it's normal. However you were just standing there, patiently waiting with the rest of us. You appeared to be a nice old lady until the train arrived.

You pushed and shoved towards the doors, telling us all that you were elderly and needed to use a cane so that you ought to get onto the train first. You pushed me back and told me that people my age ought to wait until after everyone else had gotten a seat on the train first. Someone had to take a step back, towards you with his back turned to you, in order to let some people on the train off first. You started sputtering and demanded myself and another young person on the platform to help you by standing up for you.

We both claimed to not see a thing.

See, the problem with your logic is that you were demanding us to stand up for you, to defend you, when you were just this callous, cranky old woman who was demanding respect all because you were older than we were. Do you expect to receive a medal just for being alive longer than we have? I'm sorry, lady, but it just doesn't work that way. We bit our tongues to keep from lashing back at you.

We all piled onto the crowded train and then you reached out with your cane (the one that you don't even use when you're walking) to hit someone in the leg and then you barked at them, telling them that you are old and elderly (which is redundant, by the way) and everyone had to get off the train in order for you to even get to the seat, which the man gave up without a fight.

And just one stop later, you stood up and then hit someone repeatedly in the leg for them to move so that you can leave, even though there was enough room for you to leave and he wasn't even in your way.

You're a bitter, angry and hurtful woman. Just because you have been breathing longer than the rest of us doesn't give you the right to physically assault people with your cane (you know, the one that you don't even use when you're walking) and it certainly doesn't given you the right to push people around and expect them to defend you when someone pushes you back.

Grow the fuck up, and learn that you can't assume that people will respect you just because you're older than we are. Respect needs to be earned, and you certainly have not earned mine.

Dear 'Chimney',

I was standing on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive, and I happened to be standing next to a young mother with her baby in the stroller. They seemed nice, her baby was happily gurgling and waving to everyone she saw, such a sweetheart. And then you arrived.

You in your baggy jeans that were probably three sizes too large, you with your visible blue plaid boxers and your oversized sweatshirt that could have held you and two other people your size in it. You also happened to have a math textbook that was written to be geared towards students in grade six. Of course, that wasn't the problem. Far be it for me to judge you based only on your clothing.

My problem with you was not because of your age or your clothing or even the fact that you had questionable taste in music (a word of advice, if you don't want to go deaf by the age of 21, it's probably a good idea not listen to your music that loudly so that everyone around you can hear every single word in that ridiculous rap song about 'hos' and 'bitches'... just a word of advice).

No, it was mostly because you were smoking on the platform. And to make matters worse, you turned your head, every single time you were blowing out smoke, and blew it towards the young mother and her baby.

You might like the idea of developing lung cancer, having yellowed teeth, having bad circulation and not being able to run for short periods of time without gasping for breath, but the some people in the world don't like that. And considering a baby's lungs are the last of the major organs to develop when a fetus is developing, the lung tissue can be quite delicate. And, in addition, a child's immune system is always in the development stage. And you blowing cigarette smoke in the direction of a baby in a stroller when she can't get away from you or hold her breath until the smoke passes her by, doesn't help.

So the next time you feel the urge to have a cigarette on the train of the platform, maybe the rest of the world should be blowing something disgusting and unhealthy into your face so you can breath it in. Taste of your own medicine, after all.

Dear 'Granny',

So a few days ago, I was on the train. I was minding my own business and sat down and was listening to music (The Ataris, if anyone is interested in my musical tastes, although I doubt it) and then I wasn't really paying attention.

The first stop, which is a major one because it crosses with another train line, you got onto the train. You looked like a pleasant senior citizen. With your gray hair, flower-patterned bag, and you sat right down next to me and turned so that you were completely facing me and staring at me. Yes, it was incredibly awkward for me to be sitting there, knowing that you were just blatantly staring at me. Yes, I thought you were creepy and wanted to move. And no, I wasn't about t give up my seat when I was going to be on the train for the duration of 10 stops.

The next stop, however, one of the transit cops got on and started asking to see everyone's tickets. I pulled mine out, in a plastic protective case, and just held it up for the cop to see. I wasn't really paying attention to what you were doing. Until I realized that you were speak to the transit cop about me. I pulled out my ear phones and heard you telling the man that I was your granddaughter and that I was holding onto your bus ticket for you!

I challenged you, of course, as I could see where you were going with this scam of yours. You claimed that I was holding onto your bus pass. I denied knowing you and you started throwing a small fit about how you raised me and how you were when I was born. Which was a line of bull. I demanded that you tell the officer my name, you got my first name right (most likely because my first name is on a label on my water bottle, which I drank from during the duration of one stop). However, I also demanded then that you tell the officer my last name as well (which is on my student bus pass). You got it wrong and the officer handed my pass back to me and asked you to go off of the train with him at the last stop.

Do you realize how disgusting it is that you tried to take advantage of the transit system like that? That you were trying to pass off someone as your grandchild? I wonder, really, if you were going to play the senile card when you got off of the train, claim to the officer that you were confused and really thought that I was your granddaughter. I wonder if you were fined or if he decided to let you off with a warning. I mean, it was creeping me out already with you sitting there and staring at me, but claiming that I'm your granddaughter? How low can a person sink? I hope you were fined the maximum amount that they'll fine someone who doesn't a valid transit fare on them. I also hope that I never see you again. Or rather, if I do, I hope I refrain from throwing something at you.

Dear Little White Supremacist,

I am very sure that you know who you are. You got on the 3 o'clock bus that left the bus loop at school and were standing with your friends. Who look exactly like you, and were all happily speaking in Mandarin. You on the other hand, decided then to begin your rant about Asian people and their culture.

For instance, from what I could hear you were basically saying that:
- Asian cuisine is not real food.
- The lunar calendar is not real and is completely wrong.
- Asian parents are not real parents because you, as a baby, were adopted by a nice set of 'real parents' (read: white).
- Chopsticks are not real utensils and only uncivilized people use them.
- Asian languages are obsolete and English is far superior to all Asian dialects.

Now for my counter-arguments:
- Food is food. If it is edible, you can ingest it and it gives your body nutrients, it counts as food.
- The lunar calendar is just like the solar one, only it bases time on the moon cycles, there's nothing wrong with it.
- Asian parents, and parents of any other cultural background, are real parents. No explanation should be needed for this one.
- Chopsticks are actually more clever than metal forks, spoons and knives are. I mean, for chopsticks, all you need is two sticks. Granted, you might want to sand them down or else you'll end up with splinters, but they're far more simpler to produce, in terms of mass-production.
- Shanghai has ~18 million people for that single city's population. Hong Kong has ~7 million. Tokyo has ~12.8 million. The entire continent of Asia (including Russia, Middle East, India and the South East Pacific Islands) makes up 3.9 billion of the world's population, which stands at about 6.5-7 billion people. Congratulations, you just said that over half of the world's population's first and native languages are obsolete.

I was especially pleased with the bus driver when he asked you to leave because you uttered a comment about how everyone in China should die. Yeah, that was very mature of you. Plus, despite your fuss, you know that your so-called friends are probably going to delete you off of their Myspace or Facebook accounts when they get home tonight. Wasn't it nice of the driver to ask you get off when it was pouring rain outside? I hope you were sporting the drowned-rat look well today.

Go to hell and have a nice day.