Whoa dudes, a gal I know in real life from her patronage of the tattoo shop has kindly offered to share this bus horror story with the world. Lucky you! Meet Kolina:
I work directly downtown and take a bus that often picks of partiers and drunkards, so I’m used to the occasional, “Oh dear god, really?” moment. However, what I experienced nary two moons ago on my bus was something for the record books.
I was waiting for my bus after work when two shabby, obviously hammered young ladies zoomed past me screaming bloody murder. One was chasing the other and calling her name repetitively. As if that wasn’t irritating enough, they stopped and sat down directly next to me despite the fact that there was plenty of room left on the bench to sit so that they weren’t practically on my lap. I gave a glare and a scoot and then noticed the smell. They absolutely reeked of wine, beer, and probably the sewer they had been spawned in.
Lovely bus buddy number one was wearing what appeared to be a child’s pyjama bottoms and a white tank top stained with what I could only imagine was the alcohol that was now seeping through her system. She kept reeling and seemed to be having trouble focussing her bleary eyeballs. Her name was Jessica. I knew this because her friend kept shout-slurring it at her, trying to keep her conscious. Lovely bus buddy number two was considerably more sober, but still sloppy. Like I said, she just kept shouting Jessica’s name as the latter flopped about on the bench as I cringed. Considering her condition, I figured it was possible that Jessica would woof her cookies at some point. When the bus came, I made an effort to get on first so I could hide near the front of the bus next to some kind old woman and avoid the carnage. Unfortunately the bus was full, as it often is, and I ended up having to sit at the back.
The drunks followed me. Of course.
At the back of Victoria buses, the seats sometimes face each other, as if you’re sitting at a diner with people you would never want to share a table with. Beside is a last bench at the back of the bus which is partially blocked in at the ends by the side facing seats. This is relevant to later, I promise. I sat in one of the side facing seats and Jessica and Drunky #2 sat across from me and slightly left. Jessica continued to reel, her friend continued to shout at her. Four stops away, I was looking at other passengers and making a, “This isn’t going to end well, is it?” face. I was putting my hand on the bar beside me, about to stand and go inform the driver that he had a ticking time bomb in his care, when it happened.
In slow motion (I swear it was slow motion), Jessica put both her hands over her mouth. I said, out loud, “OH FUCK” and then there was vomit everywhere. It came out between her fingers in a continuous five second spray. Despite the fact that I was completely disgusted, I had to admire that it was quite the display of vomit prowess.
If I had been six inches closer and slightly more to the left I would have had her wine tainted vomit in my lap. As luck would have it (if we can involve luck in this situation), I wasn’t, so I just got a light spray of stomach juices on the hem of my pants. The reaction was immediate. The bus pulled to a stop and there was a mass exodus from the area I was sitting in. A girl that was pinned between the side facing seats and the very back simply looked on in horror and covered her mouth. Before I made my escape (it was every man and woman for them selves at that point), I shouted, “JUST JUMP THE BARF.” Vomit Titanic.
And then, sweet sweet fresh air. Unfortunately Jessica, now covered in her own chunks, and her friend followed in a trail of shame and beer stench. Jessica flopped into the grass and just sat there while her friend screamed, “Oh my GAWD, oh my GAWD, Jessica! Are you ok?” as if her bellows would help the fact that myself and a few other passengers were now covered in a mist of puke.
I couldn’t handle the stench radiating from my new barf friends – I bolted. I called my mother and begged her to talk about anything but sick until I reached the stop a few blocks away.
A few horrified text messages and Facebook statuses later, I caught the next fresh smelling bus and was revelling in the peace and non-vomit quiet when, six stops from home, Jessica and her friend tried to board my bus. Again. Luckily for me and everyone else in the transit world, the driver was smart enough to notice that they were reeking of vomit and couldn’t find their “TRANSFERRRRRZZZZZZZzzzzz.” He barred them from riding and I nearly hugged him. As it was, when he reached my stop I thanked him and gave him a short break down of the horror film I had been a part of that evening. “No way!” he shouted. “No way!” “Yes way, my friend,” I replied. “Yes way.”
And then, guns blazing, I took off into the night, ready to fight my next transit battle.
Yeah hahahaha that’s the bus. Thank you Kolina for sharing your story. If you want to see more of her, she literally JUST started a blog, so go here and check it out.
If you have a public transit story you’d like to share, please do. You can email it to me at novaisawesome at gmail dot com. 🙂