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Wag, Ateh, Wag!
The thing I love about public transportation is the relative cheapness of it. For 10 pesos, you ride a bus going to Buendia from Insular. For another 27 pesos, you reach the gate of your subdivision from Buendia. That's 37 pesos against the 200 pesos it would cost you if you took a taxi.
Another reason why I love public transportation is because it's poetic. Yes, poetic. As I sit on my poorly upholstered two seater (always take the two seater, never the pseudo three seater that is in fact, a two and a quarter seater), I get to see a glimpse of how other people are. It's like legal voyeurism. You see the old man with a faded barong and a beaten clutchbag and you wonder if he's thinking of retiring soon. Then you think that it's not about when he's retiring but if he can afford it. You take a look outside and you see more people waiting for transport, and you get to think about what their lives are like. See, poetic!
But the thing I hate about public transport would be the people who have absolutely no concept of personal space. It's like they're existing just to make sure that they invade your personal space and to at least make sure that they've annoyed you at some point.
Case in point: I took the regular bus route home after I procured for myself a lovely japanese sweet corn to munch upon on the way. When I sat down, I immediately saw this huge plump woman that reeked of bad news. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against fat people. Some of my friends are fat. There was that moment when our eyes met and I think she sensed my fear and rushed over to my seat before anyone else can reach it. She tries to pry open one of her collections of small bags (for the love of god woman! get one LARGE bag so you won't have to carry 36 small ones!) and while she does this, her elbow finds itself lodged nicely on my neck. I cough and she pretends that she doesn't hear me. I figure that she's deaf or something so I let it go. But by the time the conductor comes over, she perfectly hears him and gives him her fare, that is, after she rummaged through 28 of her teeny bags and successfully cutting off any air intake I might need to do.
A few more rounds of this, I finally decided that enough was enough. Big momma went for the neck again and this time, I was ready. I pretended to stretch out and pushed her arm away. She looks at me with blazing fury in her eyes and I look at her sweetly and said "I'm so sorry, did I hurt you? Well, I did it intentionally so you would't bruise my neck. Thanks!"
She looks at me with great disgust and huffs. She then moves to another seat to torture some other poor creature.
I hope that the other fellow doesn't have a protruding Adam's apple.
Another reason why I love public transportation is because it's poetic. Yes, poetic. As I sit on my poorly upholstered two seater (always take the two seater, never the pseudo three seater that is in fact, a two and a quarter seater), I get to see a glimpse of how other people are. It's like legal voyeurism. You see the old man with a faded barong and a beaten clutchbag and you wonder if he's thinking of retiring soon. Then you think that it's not about when he's retiring but if he can afford it. You take a look outside and you see more people waiting for transport, and you get to think about what their lives are like. See, poetic!
But the thing I hate about public transport would be the people who have absolutely no concept of personal space. It's like they're existing just to make sure that they invade your personal space and to at least make sure that they've annoyed you at some point.
Case in point: I took the regular bus route home after I procured for myself a lovely japanese sweet corn to munch upon on the way. When I sat down, I immediately saw this huge plump woman that reeked of bad news. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against fat people. Some of my friends are fat. There was that moment when our eyes met and I think she sensed my fear and rushed over to my seat before anyone else can reach it. She tries to pry open one of her collections of small bags (for the love of god woman! get one LARGE bag so you won't have to carry 36 small ones!) and while she does this, her elbow finds itself lodged nicely on my neck. I cough and she pretends that she doesn't hear me. I figure that she's deaf or something so I let it go. But by the time the conductor comes over, she perfectly hears him and gives him her fare, that is, after she rummaged through 28 of her teeny bags and successfully cutting off any air intake I might need to do.
A few more rounds of this, I finally decided that enough was enough. Big momma went for the neck again and this time, I was ready. I pretended to stretch out and pushed her arm away. She looks at me with blazing fury in her eyes and I look at her sweetly and said "I'm so sorry, did I hurt you? Well, I did it intentionally so you would't bruise my neck. Thanks!"
She looks at me with great disgust and huffs. She then moves to another seat to torture some other poor creature.
I hope that the other fellow doesn't have a protruding Adam's apple.
