Category Archives: funner times on the bus

These Boots Were Made for Walkin’

Posted by plumpdumpling on July 20, 2010 – 12:00 pm
Filed under funner times on the bus, it's fun to be fat, why i'm better than everyone else
Tagged as , , ,

I do not run for things. Like, physically. This is perhaps the reason why the gym doesn’t work out for me. I would much, much rather be late to something than to hurry myself, to rush across the street on a flashing Don’t Walk sign to catch a fleeting bus or to plow down some station stairs to catch a train sitting with its doors open for an extra second. I think people who run for things look stupid. I hate people who are too eager. I hate people who care about things too much when they’re things I don’t care about.

Yet last Friday morning, I found myself turning the corner onto 42nd Street, seeing the bus waiting at the stop, noticing there was still a long line of people waiting to get on, and actually breaking out in a run. I have no idea why. I was running late, but why would I care about running late? Maybe it’s that I knew I would be getting to the stop just as the bus was pulling away and that everyone on the bus would know I had meant to get on it and that that would be more embarrassing that bothering myself to run for it. I’m irrational like that.

So I took off in the fastest jog I could in a pair of really rubbery flip-flops, and things were going pretty well. I probably could’ve walked just as fast if I really wanted to put in the effort of swinging my arms and rolling my hips and all, so I figured I was still looking fairly nonchalant to anyone who might be judging my eagerness, yet I hopefully looked like I cared enough about making it onto the bus that the driver would take pity and wait on me if everyone else loaded quickly.

But then, halfway down the block, the toe part of one of my flip-flops suddenly somehow doubled under itself and messed up my rhythm, and I had to stop to straighten things out. Just then, this beautiful brown-skinned woman went gliding past me in a summery black dress, her natural hair highlighted with a white faux flower. Her long, slender legs, fitted with soft black ballerina flats, flitted in front of her one at a time like those of a more-graceful gazelle. I somehow expected that she’d stop, that we’d laugh about me trying to run in my stupid shoes, and that we’d walk arm in arm to the bus. Instead, she probably laughed as my shorter, stouter legs, bound in too-tight, too-hot jeans pounded the pavement in comparison, and while she boarded the bus nimbly with a bounce, I hoisted myself up, out of breath and windblown with the entire bus glowering at me for making them wait.

That’ll teach me to try.

Everyone Can See You with Your Finger Up Your Nose

Posted by plumpdumpling on July 8, 2010 – 12:00 pm
Filed under funner times on the bus, living in new york sucks so hard, why i'm better than everyone else
Tagged as , ,

I had to be at work early this morning for a meeting, and I expected that the public transportation would be less crowded, so I was annoyed when I decided to be lazy and take the bus to Grand Central and found that the usual load of people was still waiting at the stop after mine. There was one woman in particular who I just didn’t like from the moment I saw her. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was that made me want to ensure somehow that she lead an unhappy life–maybe her dour all-brown outfit, maybe her sloppy ponytail, maybe her chubby cheeks–but I was especially upset to look down from my throne at the back of the bus and see that she’d grabbed the last of the much-coveted single-person seats.

And then she started picking her nose.

(I’m sorry, but click here to read the rest. I hate to do this sort of thing to you, but one of my friends told me last night it’s the only way to do it, and I was just looking for an excuse. Looooove yooooou.)

Are Pets Allowed on the Subway?

Posted by plumpdumpling on June 9, 2010 – 6:00 pm
Filed under funner times on the bus, living in new york sucks so hard, super furry animals
Tagged as , ,

This morning, the bus came to a halt at the 2nd Avenue stop, the back doors opened, and through them, I spotted a girl with the cutest little French Bulldog at her side. Now, French Bulldogs are my very favorite kind of dog, and this one was blonde instead of the usual black, so I had to will myself not to bolt out the door to coo over it. When all of the other passengers had boarded, she picked up the dog, dropped it in a large tote bag, and got on the bus herself.

Now, I’m all about pets on public transportation. The sensitive part of me likes to ogle cuddly things, and the sadistic part of me likes to see them cower in the corners of their designer carriers whenever we hit a bump. But having a boyfriend who sneezes when he so much sees a picture of a cat has made me sensitive to being in close proximity to fur, so I was a little bit mad at her for having the gall to so flagrantly show off her dog. It was made all the worse when she began taking photos of it with her cellphone.

I checked on the MTA’s website, though, and it turns out that pets are allowed on NYC public transportation “when they are carried in kennels or similar containers that can be accommodated by you on your lap without annoyance to other passengers”. (Harnessed service animals are always permitted, of course.) This girl wasn’t following the rules by having her dog sticking out the top of a tote bag, obviously, but it’s interesting to know that pets are allowed on the subways and buses.

(Click here to see the article on Examiner.com and earn me a pretty penny (literally).)

This is NEW YORK CITY, people. We have a reputation to uphold.

Posted by plumpdumpling on June 7, 2010 – 12:00 pm
Filed under funner times on the bus, good times at everyone else's expense, why i'm better than everyone else
Tagged as , ,

I swear I don’t usually judge people for their clothing choices, but a woman on the bus this morning was pretty clearly wearing a shirt made of fabric showcasing teddy bears in various positions of merrymaking at the beach:

As someone who can’t handle Disney-related clothes on adults and can barely stomach ironic hipster t-shirts covered in nature scenes such as wolves howling at the moon, I’m sort of appalled by this. I wanted to believe it was scrubs, but then I noticed she was wearing really expensive-looking pants with them. Not that having to wear scrubs is an excuse to dress like a baby.

As a side note, the woman in the black dress walking past her shows off way too much leg for an old lady every day when she sits down. Sorry, I needed to get that off my chest.

Just Your Average Day on the Bus

Posted by plumpdumpling on May 13, 2010 – 2:00 pm
Filed under funner times on the bus, living in new york sucks so hard
Tagged as , ,

I saw a woman on the bus today who had my hair! It was a pixie cut that had grown out into loose S-shaped waves woven together like a basket. Obviously she was black, and obviously it was a wig, because this sort of freak hair doesn’t occur in nature.

When she got off, I noticed that this jerk who always steals seats from little old ladies was sitting in one of the single-person seats. I stared at the ugly cluster of moles on his neck and felt a sudden urge to ask him, “Are you developmentally disabled?” Because I really think it would help me understand him. But after Charles’s warning yesterday that I’m going to get punched one of these days, I decided not to tempt it.

And then, as I was going down the stairs into Grand Central, first an old woman was blocking the entrance while she talked on her cell phone, and then the guy in front of me on the stairs was walking waaaaaay too slowly, so I looked around him and saw that he was reading his paper as he descended.

Kill! Kill! Kill!

My First Greyhound Trip is Only Going to Make Me 100 Times More Annoyed at the Airport Next Time

Posted by plumpdumpling on February 2, 2010 – 12:00 pm
Filed under funner times on the bus
Tagged as

I considered taking a Greyhound bus trip a few years back, but a friend warned me, “You wouldn’t like it.” I didn’t ask questions–just drove myself fourteen hours by car–but I remained curious about what it might be like to travel by bus. Naturally, I jumped at the chance when Greyhound offered me an exclusive ride last weekend on their new Lucky Streak line that travels from New York’s Port Authority directly to your choice of eight casinos. The trip also included a round-trip bus ticket for my guest, lovely accommodations overlooking the boardwalk and beach at the Hilton Casino Resort, a wine reception at the top of the Tropicana Casino & Resort, complimentary spa treatments at Bally’s, shopping certificates for any of the Tropicana’s upscale shops and restaurants, and free slot play vouchers for the Hilton and the Tropicana.

Greyhound’s biggest competitor is the automobile, but anyone driving a car to Atlantic City has no idea what they’re missing out on. Forget navigating, pumping gas, and parking; the biggest draw of public transportation for me is not having to pay any attention to where I’m going, so I loved being able to board the bus in NYC and spend the next two hours doing whatever I wanted, even if what I wanted was to nap. With service right to the casinos, you don’t even need to worry about grabbing a cab once you arrive in Atlantic City.

I don’t own a car, but I’m a frequent airplane passenger and find myself more annoyed with airlines every time I fly. Even before we left Port Authority, I noticed several reasons why I might choose Greyhound over an airline:

+ I didn’t have to arrive at my departure gate hours early just to sit around. There’s no ridiculous security line where you have to remove your shoes, put your laptop in a separate container, and empty your pockets of the dime you didn’t even know was in there. I walked in, walked right up to my gate, and boarded the bus.

+ Once on the bus, I was free to use electronic devices at my leisure. No one told me to turn off my cellphone for takeoff one minute only to inform me that we were actually going to be waiting on the runway for another hour the next.

+ Because there’s no single runway as with planes, buses can leave when they’re supposed to without regard to the schedules of other buses.

+ My luggage was with me through the entire trip. Carry-ons fit beneath the seat and overhead, while bigger bags are stored underneath the coach, so there’s no chance of my suitcase disappearing behind a check-in counter and ending up in Los Angeles when I’m in Boston.

The new fleet of Greyhound buses features free wi-fi and an electrical outlet at the base of the seat in front of you, so it’s easy for the entire trip to slip away as you tweet about how much you’re enjoying the supple leather seats and the smooth ride. The CEO and COO of Greyhound–David Leach and Bill Blankenship, respectively–rode the bus to Atlantic City with us in order to speak with each blogger personally, and I was impressed with their knowledge and passion, especially when it came to the reduced-emission design of their new buses. Truly, now more than ever, taking Greyhound instead of a plane or a car is a great way to lessen your carbon footprint.

The negative aspects to taking a bus are the ones you’ve no doubt heard a million times: it’s slower than other forms of transportation, and the lack of security inspections–while a real pleasure with a group of like-minded bloggers–could be worrisome otherwise.

Fortunately, now’s the perfect time for you to decide for yourself by taking advantage of Greyhound’s Lucky Streak $1 promotion. For a dollar, you can ride round trip between NYC and Atlantic City, and all Lucky Streak schedules have open returns, which means you can stay until your money runs out. Each of the eight casinos Greyhound services are offering a bonus to all Lucky Streak riders, so you’ll be awarded between $25 and $30 to play at the slots. I’m already planning my return.

In Which Kamran Fakes His Death on a Bus

Posted by plumpdumpling on February 1, 2010 – 3:00 pm
Filed under creepy boyfriend obsession, funner times on the bus
Tagged as ,

Kamran’s simulated crash face does not in any way reflect how our trip to Atlantic City on Greyhound’s Lucky Streak Bus went:

However, this is a fairly accurate portrayal of his feelings toward wearing a seatbelt on public transportation:

A full report is forthcoming.

My Incredible Blog Celebrity Pays Off with a Chance to Gamble Away My Life Savings

Posted by plumpdumpling on January 29, 2010 – 10:00 am
Filed under bigtime celebrity, funner times on the bus
Tagged as ,

I know you thought my blogs were totally useless, but because of one of these Internet gems, Greyhound has invited me (and a guest!) to take a trip to Atlantic City today to try out their new fleet of buses equipped with amenities like wi-fi, electrical outlets, and additional legroom that I’ll fill with many bags full of family-sized shampoo bottles and other things I couldn’t bring if I was on a plane.

They’re putting us up in one of the casinos, slathering us in spa services, and hosting a meet-and-greet with other bloggers that they’re calling “Top of the Trop” and which I will hopefully endure the entirety of by tippling champagne with Kamran in a corner. I’m extremely excited, as this will only be the second time I’ve been to a hotel with him in the three and a half years we’ve been dating, if you don’t count all of those initial months when we were meeting up at the Four Seasons every weekend for illicit activities.

Kidding.

Anyway, Greyhound will be taking a look at my Twitter tomorrow to see what sort of nonsense I tweet about my trip (pretty awesome that I broke down and signed up for that jazz a week ago, right?), just to warn you, it may contain nothing but

1) lyrics to “The Wheels on the Bus”,
2) pictures of stupid vanity license plates, and
3) mentions of Kamran accidentally letting out a little pee every time we go over a pothole.

The Bus Stops for Obama

Posted by plumpdumpling on September 23, 2009 – 12:01 pm
Filed under funner times on the bus, living in new york is neat
Tagged as ,

My boyfriend lives right beside the United Nations building on the East River, so every time some unwanted politician blows into town, we feel the effects more than most New Yorkers. Yesterday morning, I walked out of his apartment building to find a tow truck pulling cars off the street, cops milling everywhere with especially cute and not-at-all-threatening dogs, the sidewalks lined with metal barriers, and 42nd Street blocked off to cars. Which meant that the bus I lazily use to take me the three stops to Grand Central wasn’t running.

Read the rest here, sucka.

The New JCPenney, the Yankees, and Your Stench: Things I’m Uninterested in at 8 a.m.

Posted by plumpdumpling on August 14, 2009 – 10:05 am
Filed under funner times on the bus
Tagged as

I’ve only seen this guy a few times before on the bus, but I’ve felt sorry for whoever was next to him every time. He’s The Talker, the stranger who doesn’t shut up and doesn’t realize that everyone’s secretly plotting his demise. The first time I saw him chatting some lady’s ear off in the front seat while she sat flipping through a magazine, I thought, “What a jerk! How could she just ignore him like that?!”

But then he came and sat by me on Tuesday. I didn’t recognize him at first and didn’t think anything about it when it took him an abnormally long time to board the bus because he was talking to the driver. People ask the driver questions all the time. But then I watched as he talked to apparently no one all the way back the aisle to the seat right next to me. I quickly considered my options and decided that moving away was ruder than simply pretending I didn’t hear him, so I stared straight ahead until he was silent.

A minute later, he looked over at me and said perfectly-sanely, “Excuse me, I hate to bother you, but do you know how many stops it is to 6th Avenue?” Thinking I had misjudged him and that it was safe, I answered, “About five.” And then the floodgates opened.

Read the rest here.

A Bus Stop Ditcher Gets His Due

Posted by plumpdumpling on August 4, 2009 – 9:50 am
Filed under funner times on the bus, living in new york sucks so hard, my uber-confrontational personality
Tagged as , , ,

On Saturday evening, Kamran and I reached the M15 stop at 42nd Street to see we’d just missed the bus. As we were the only ones at the stop, we entertained ourselves with rhyming games and musings about what sort of present we could buy at a convenience store to bring to the Williamsburg birthday party we were on our way to.

After a few minutes, a woman with a very stylish short haircut made her way down the street and politely stood a few feet away from us to wait. An older gentlemen in a pink button-down dress shirt and an orange tie came and stood beside her a few minutes later. A couple of grannies rolled up together a second later and pretended to be looking at the map on the bus stop pole, but it was pretty clear they were just trying to ditch us to be first into the bus, so Kamran told me to be wary of getting hit over the head with a purse or walking cane when the bus pulled up.

We all spotted the bus as it popped over the hill at 43rd Street at the same time, and the unease in the air was palpable as we all prepared ourselves for the inevitable chaos of boarding. Usually I appreciate it when the bus driver doesn’t pull all of the way up to the pole that marks the stop, because the people standing there are rarely the ones who have been waiting the longest, but this driver didn’t pull up far enough.

He stopped right in the middle of the crowd, leaving us to separate ourselves into two groups on either side of the door. On the left side was the nicely-haircutted woman, the old man in pink and orange, and this other man who had appeared out of nowhere in rolled-up jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt. On the right was the potentially-lethal pair of ladies, Kamran, and me.

Haircut went into the bus first, which was, you know, incorrect but acceptable, considering that she arrived shortly after we did and perhaps didn’t remember who was there first. I took a step forward to make it clear that I was next, and I know Sleeveless T-Shirt saw me, because he stepped forward after I did and then looked at me for my next move

My next move, of course, was to step onto the bus. Apparently he wasn’t pleased with this checkmate, though, because he took advantage of the extra-wide doorway and clambered onto the bus right beside me. I was totally weirded out. I mean, I may curse about people who hurry past me into the bus during rush hour, but this was 8 p.m. on a weekend. And it was a double-long bus, so there was no chance there wasn’t going to be room for him. Plus, I was there first.

I didn’t even have a chance to think about what to do. What came naturally was to shove all 145 pounds of him back out of the bus, all the while saying, “Oh, excuse me! Oh, pardon me!” in my sweetest voice. The adrenaline rush was insane.

But as fun as that was, the greatest part of the situation was that the guy then turned to Kamran, evidently unaware that we were together. (Or aware and unafraid.) He made a face of incredulity and yammered something unintelligible that was clearly meant to convey how much he wanted me dead. Kamran, of course, didn’t sock him in the jaw as he should have, but he did politely remind him to mind the other people in line first next time.

(also posted on Examiner)

The Bus Driver Who Saved My Life (and by that, I mean 75 cents)

Posted by plumpdumpling on July 7, 2009 – 10:02 am
Filed under administrative, funner times on the bus
Tagged as ,

To welcome me back from a week away from the Internet in the great barren plains of Ohio, you can politely click on the link below to read a story about how one man changed the course of my entire day:

The only nice person in New York City

When Adult Diapers Come in Handy

Posted by plumpdumpling on June 4, 2009 – 2:13 pm
Filed under funner times on the bus, good times at everyone else's expense
Tagged as ,

Having been raised on a Midwestern farm, wanting to be polite is a natural part of my personality that I have to really fight sometimes in order to keep myself from getting mugged, raped, and murdered. So when I saw a man about to sit on a puddle of water in the bus today, I couldn’t help but stop him. And the woman after him. And another man after him.

I suppose the window had been left open all night, and a spot of water about the diameter of a baseball had gathered in the butt groove of the seat in front of me. The cloudy sky kept light from bouncing off of it, so it took the unnatural obsession with not sitting in gum, body fluids, and spilled coffee of someone like me to look hard enough to see it.

At the next stop, more people filed in, and as the bus was starting to fill up, the empty row in front of me became too enticing, and a middle-aged man in a casual business ensemble practically dove to plop down in it. I winced at having not been able to say anything about the water and waited for him to notice that his rear end was soaking and to jump back up. I felt all of the people I’d warned not to sit there watching him from behind me.

But he just settled in with his newspaper to enjoy the ride. Sadly, I had to get off the bus before he did, so I didn’t even get to enjoy watching him stand up later, pants dripping.

(also posted to Examiner, Facebook, my Gmail chat status message, anywhere you are likely to be driven insane by it)

Eruption on the M15

Posted by plumpdumpling on March 31, 2009 – 1:51 pm
Filed under all of my friends are prettier than i am, funner times on the bus, it's fun to be fat, music is my boyfriend, my uber-confrontational personality, par-tay
Tagged as , , , ,

I was riding the M15 up from the East Village after a Friday night of karaoke classics at my favorite place to watch my friends make fools of themselves, Sing-Sing, when at a stop near 34th Street, a man stood up from his seat and began yelling at the person behind him, seemingly out of nowhere. This is precisely what I heard:

“You want to step out?! You want to step out?! You’re not so clean! Your butt is dirty! Asshole!”

He was a stubby guy with a backpack and the leftovers of an Asian accent, and his victim was a white-haired, cane-holding black gentleman who didn’t seem to notice that he’d just been given a verbal beat-down. Now to be fair, I was in the back of the bus behind a guy who was inexplicably grunting at ten-second intervals, but I’m positive that’s what the yeller yelled. How he knew anything about his fellow rider’s butt I’m less sure of.

He strutted off the bus with an air of accomplishment, and we were all left to wonder what the old man could’ve possibly said to rile him up.

(Posted on Examiner, which pays me for your visits (hint, hint))

And because I can’t resist:


Steven and Emily singing (or, you know, not singing in this photo) a romantic duet
of Paula Abdul’s “Opposites Attract”


Nik and Charles enjoying Jeff’s rendition of “Stayin’ Alive”


Roxanne showing her Jamaican roots with some Bob Marley, which earned her the eye
of the one other Jamaican dude who sings karaoke in NYC.


Adam unabashedly doing the robot while Steven gets DOWN.

The Asshole at My Bus Stop is Helping Me Make Some Pocket Change

Posted by plumpdumpling on February 20, 2009 – 1:58 pm
Filed under bigtime celebrity, funner times on the bus, jobby jobby job job, living in new york is neat, narcissism
Tagged as , , , ,

My best friend, Tracey, recommended a couple of weeks ago that I apply to write for Examiner.com as one of their restaurant reviewers. I was dismayed to find that they weren’t hiring any more food types, but they were looking for articles about public transportation, which I ride every day in the city where it’s most necessary.

I didn’t know if my stories about kneeing old men in the groin to make sure I get into a crowded train were what they were looking for, but I gave it a go, and they actually liked me. Here’s the article I posted today:

Every bus stop has its own special asshole, but I think mine should get a crown for his assholiness.

Whenever there’s someone running from the very end of the waiting line to be first at the bus’s door . . .
Whenever there’s someone racing to get a seat on the bench to ensure some old lady can’t . . .
Whenever there’s someone rushing from the bench to the edge of the sidewalk the second the bus comes into view . . .

It’s him.

I sort of feel sorry for him. He’s a nondescript man of a nondescript age in a city where being descript is the only way to not get lost in the throng. He cuts his hair not to be stylish but to be practical. He wears modern shoes but pairs them with pleated pants rolled up at the hem. He’s not thirty but not fifty, not attractive but not deformed.

It seems that his only goal in life is to get one of the single seats that lines the driver’s side of any bus. And it’s widely recognized that those single seats are where it’s at–you can let your love handles spill off the side without anyone complaining, and you don’t have to deal with anyone else’s love handles spilling all over you. I don’t hate him for liking that.

What I DO hate him for is being audible about his disgust for the rest of us during the ride. After living here for a few years, I’m used to crazy people talking to themselves about pills and Jesus and the white man keeping them down, but I’m not used to people groaning about

• how annoying being stopped at a red light is.
• how they wish the bus driver would hit pedestrians in the crosswalk.
• how disabled people shouldn’t be allowed on the bus because they take too long to board.

There’s more to life for me than sitting by myself, so being polite to those waiting for the bus with me is worth it even if it means missing out on a single seat. Sometimes my waiting gets rewarded, though, and I end up with a single seat, anyway. Like this morning, when I struggled on with a huge bag and was delighted to see that I could slide right into the second single seat back.

I didn’t notice, but the jerk behind me had his foot stuck way out into the aisle, so of course I accidentally stepped on it. I immediately turned around with a genuine, “I’m sorry!”, and who was it but The Guy. He said, “Oh, God,” in his most perturbed voice, so I said mockingly, “Oh, Jesus, sweet Lord, she stepped on my unfashionable shoes, and I simply don’t know how I’m going to make it through the day!”

I sort of expected him to pull my hair or flick my ear or something, but no such luck. He just sat quietly throughout the remainder of our time together and then checked out my rack when I got up at my stop.

I get paid based on my number of views, so if you want to keep me fed in this harsh economic climate, please view this article

here

and my very first article

here.

I really appreciate your support, and I really recommend that you become an Examiner for your city so that we can link to each other and take over the world.