Dear the Boy that Darwin would have loved,

I've been having a decent week so far. Lots of snow coupled with slow transit service. I'm back at school and there's ice everywhere and unpaved sidewalks.

And I have a very short complaint today.

If you're on a bus that's quiet at 6am and no one is saying a thing and the only thing to be heard is the bus going through slush, you really shouldn't be speaking so loudly on your cell phone to your friend about how your mom just made up a new batch of meth and how you were going to go score some E and maybe some roofies for your girlfriend after second period because some teacher wasn't ever going to realize that you never showed up for biology and the girlfriend still wasn't giving it up. You don't need to advertise your extracurricular activities to a somewhat full bus of people.

And maybe if you showed up for biology once in a while, you would know a little something about 'natural selection'. Charles Darwin would have loved you. You could have been the ultimate poster child for his theories to do with evolution and why some species die out.

Cheers,
Science Geek

P.S. Rape is rape is rape. Illegal in so many ways. Plus, if you're religious, you'll end up burning in hell. With fire. And brimstone. Or so they say. Or you'll get your just desserts when they try you as an adult for aggravated sexual assault.

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 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 '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 the Woman on the Train,

I saw you on the train when I boarded after my chemistry exam on Wednesday (December 12th). You were already sitting down, and holding yourself with perfect posture. And honestly, I probably wouldn't have noticed a thing about you if you hadn't taken off your hat, ran a hand through your hair and then put your hat back on. At first, I thought it was a trick of light, I thought that I couldn't possibly see what I thought I was seeing.

But... It is kind of hard to hide two black eyes, bruised cheeks and a bruised chin with a hair and your hair. It is also difficult to hide the fact that there are literally two bruises in the shapes of handprints around your neck. Now, I'm sure that if you are reading this, you'd be explaining them away - but it's difficult to do so when I could see the individual fingers in the bruise.

Your cell phone rang and you pressed a button to talk and addressed the person as 'honey' and then started to quickly apologizing, begging the person on the other end to not be angry at you for being late going home as you had no control over the traffic on the roads. You told him that you were already on the train and you wouldn't be more than fifteen minutes to the station. But it seemed that it didn't matter as you suddenly stopped speaking mid-sentence and put your phone back into your pocket.

The woman next to you was also paying attention and asked you if you needed help, she had motioned to the bruising on your face and neck. You shook your head and said that it happened when you had fallen down the stairs by accident. Now, with that extent of bruising, it would seem as if you had thrown yourself down the stairs once or twice and then had the railing wrap itself around your neck a few times in order to get to get that kind of bruising.

I hope you get some help and that you leave the SOB that's been beating you up. Maybe you think that you can't get help, but you can go to a local hospital or police station - people will help you. All you need to do is walk out the door.