Alternate title: “The Buses are Interesting”

To the guy whose music was loud enough for the whole bus to hear it:
Not all of us like Maroon 5, dude. Turn it down. Also, how can you still hear anything?

To the group of high-school kids in the front seats who were oblivious to the two elderly ladies who had to stand in the aisle:
Manners? Anyone?

To the girl who got on the bus, dressed, in her own words, “like a fucking whore:”
Good advice: don’t start telling random strangers on a bus how you’re not even eighteen yet, but that you got “totally wasted” last night and had a fight with your boyfriend and your two best friends who ditched you at the bus stop. And are you physically unable to speak without yelling? Also, last time I checked a map, Barcelona—as much of a “party capital” as it may be—is not in Mexico.

To the girl deep-throating the banana:
What the fuck?

To the guy lip-synching to “Carry On Wayward Son:”
Rock on, dude. I couldn’t hear your music (take a hint, Maroon 5 guy), but you were so obviously enjoying Kansas I almost interrupted you to ask if you wanted to play Rock Band with me later.