Captain Morgan of the Winnipeg Transit

Love this, from Laura:

One day last summer I was bussing down portage on my way to work. The bus was kind of crowded, and there were only a few seats left at the back of the bus. This guy got on, sat down across from me and started trying to talk to a couple people including myself. We ignored him because he was drunk and fishing for someone to start a fight with. When he realized he wasn't getting anywhere reached into his back back and pulled out a 66 of captains and just started drinking. I got off the bus shortly after and just walked to work from there.

The Bus Fart Olympics

via Kijiji

Spit your Spitz somewherez else

Here's a really gross story from Holly:

I climbed aboard the crowded 137 St. Norbert and managed to find a seat at the very back of the bus. After a few moments, a waft of some sort of nut smell filled my nostrils. Across from me sat a quirky regular, today we'll call him Mr. Seed. Mr. Seed would reach into his lunch bag, toss some sunflower seeds in his mouth, spit the shells into his hand, then flick the saliva-coated shells into a Ziploc bag. On a packed bus. Disgusting.

Mr. Seed changed seats to then sit in an empty seat next to me at the very back, continuing with his snacking. As the bus began emptying out, Awesome Guy sitting on the other side of me was about to get off the bus and he had had enough of Mr. Seed's poor choice of snack. He sarcastically said to Mr. Seed, "That was considerate of you to spit in your hand then touch the poles." I began giggling. Mr. Seed said, "I haven't touched anything." Awesome Guy corrected him and said, "You touched that pole AND that pole." I burst out laughing at this point. Mr. Seed half-heartedly said, "Sorry," and halted his snacking.

After Awesome Guy left the bus and my laughing subsided, Mr. Seed turned to me for solace (WHY?!?!) and said, "I'd hate to know what other germs are all over this bus." I said to him, "I feel the same way as that guy. That (the seed eating and spitting on a bus) is pretty disgusting." I think Mr. Seed quietly said, "I'm on a diet," or something like that. I'm not entirely sure as I was listening to my iPod and his attempt to justify spitting in his hand wasn't worth turning down my music. He then went on to say about kids with snot on bars, blah blah blah. I clearly was not listening so he trailed off and stopped talking.

People, having a snack that requires you to put saliva on your hand is NOT a snack to have on a bus, diet or not! You can get shelled seeds.

Halloween Bus

Here's a cute story from Holly about a Halloween themed transit bus:

I seemed to be one of the few adults in costume for Halloween. Imagine my surprise after work when I got on board the 137 St. Norbert to find the awesome bus driver not only dressed up, but had decorated the bus with spooky decor and had treats for the kids!

She squealed, "Oh my god! Another person dressed up!" The driver and I were the only ones in costume. She asked if she could get a picture which was great because I also brought a camera. I told her that I didn't see too many adults dressed up this year so I thought I had the wrong date. She told me that she made special arrangements with Transit so she could have the same bus the whole day: ("I don't want to decorate 2 buses." *lol*). There were a few other drivers, maybe 3 others, who had also dressed up, one was Smurfette, so I hope people got pics. We chatted a bit more and I said I had wished more people dressed up or decorated and she said that it's important; that people need something positive like that.

As I was getting off the bus, she said, "See ya later, roadkill!" while I wished her a Happy Halloween in my ghoulish voice. Coolest bus driver ever!

Halloween Chronic

Daniel tells the spooky tale of the halloween chronic:

I was heading home from garden city on Halloween, about 2 stops in a group of people got on the bus and came and sat near me in the back of the bus.

All fine and dandy eventually they started talking about pot and smoking and stuff eventually one of them pulled out a cigarette and another pulled out a pipe and they started smoking some pot on the bus!

while this was happening they slowly got louder and louder the bus driver kept looking back to see what was going on never being able to see anything.

the guy sitting next to me eventually asked me if I wanted to take a hoot. I ignored him but he kept rambling on about how good his pot was.

I got off a few stops later and the bus driver asked if they were smoking in the back in the back I sent him a nod and then jumped off.

during my ride he kicked a different group of 3 passengers looked to be about 17-18 years old off for smoking by the back doors.

All in all a funny Halloween.

And here's a related video of some guy smoking his "medicine" on the Winnipeg Transit:

Backus Packus Breakus Windows

Continuing with the recent backpack themed stories, here's one from Erik:

I was riding a half empty 11 down Portage Avenue several years ago. It was summer. It was hot and the bus had no air conditioning.

There was an annoying fly flying around the bus, landing on sticky, sweaty people causing them to pause from fanning themselves to brush the fly away.

There was one woman sitting up at the front in the sideways seats who was more skittish with the fly. She swatted furiously at it whenever it got near. Eventually it landed on the window next to her so she swung the large backpack that she was holding at it, trying to squish it on the window. She missed.

Her backpack must have contained something big and heavy because when it hit the window it made an incredible bang. It cracked the window in several places. The bus driver hit the brakes, leaned back and asked, "What the hell was that? I thought someone threw a brick at us!"

The woman hugged her backpack closer and got off the bus at the next stop with her head down. The fly continued to buzz around the bus landing on the sweaty, sticky people and the broken window.

Backus Packus Breakus Bones

This story seems to be in a continuing series of stories about people paranoid of backpacks. Here's an anonymous story about one such event:

This is probably the most boring story ever. I get on the 11 to go home from class last week and I had one of those shoulder bags where the flap occasionally flips open. The bus was packed because it was just after 5, so I stand in the very corner near the flip up wheel chair seats.

Beside me, there's a woman who appears to be 80-85 talking to a man about the same age about how "mothers with strollers get respect on the bus but old folks with walkers and canes don't." (She happened to have neither.)

So the bus stops and slap of my bag swings forward and his this woman's knee. She goes "That girl's bag must way 20 pounds and hit my fractured knee!" Everyone watching knew it didn't so I just ignored her.

The second time, the bus stops and the flap hits her leg again so I go to hold it closed. She goes "Excuse me, I already have a fractured rib, I don't need a fractured knee!"

Well, I had to get off at that point because everyone was staring at me and I was embarrassed as fuck.

Backus Packus Smackus

Heather seems to have the same affliction as myself: being a weirdo magnet.

This incident actually resulted in me calling 311 to demand security guards placed on certain routes.
Addicts on the bus seem to plague me. Me and my daughter were heading home on the 47, I was sitting in the seat next to the stairs. This girl and her friend (I think it was her friend) sat in the seats next to me. This girl who sat closest to me must have been tripping out on drugs: she was shaking, constantly rummaging through her back pack, frantic about finding something. I couldn't help but glance, and make sure she wasn't going to wig out on me. I was just looking around out the windows. Apparently, to addicts, you can't even look slightly in their direction. "STOP STARING AT ME" she yelled at me. I didn't even know what to do. This girl was like a wild animal. I was afraid of making any sudden movements. She was so paranoid. She flinched and raised her hand everytime someone whisked past her or made a loud sound: like a laugh. The part that really scared me was when she got off the bus: she stood up and slammed her back pack into me and acted as if she didn't do anything or she didn't care. The scarier part was that there could have been needles in her back pack that may have poked me

"There's a baby in there!"

Heather writes:

 I am probably one of the few who will openly say that I encourage babies stay in strollers on the bus. It's the safest place for a baby since it is a moving vehicle that stops (often abruptly) frequently while passengers are jerked around unrestrained.

Anyways, me and my 10-year-old daughter got on the 19, after her doctors appointment. We were having a pleasant day, despite the bus being packed. There was a stroller to our right and people standing, squished to our left and front. Of course, more people were let on and they were pushing me into the stroller. I was trying to be respectful and mind the child. The mother, who seemed to be either an addict of some sort or a recovering addict, snapped loudly "THERE'S A BABY IN THERE." I turned and saw that, indeed, she was screaming at me. I don't know what her issue was with me. I have never seen her before.

But shortly later, when the bus emptied of passengers enough for us to sit down, another young mom holding a toddler came on and the snipe-y mom was talking to this teen mom all fine and dandy.

I got off the bus relieved I didn't have to risk another run in with that crazy mom. Or so I thought. My and my daughter made it across Portage waiting to cross Vaughan. I hear "MOVE IT, FUCK". I looked behind me and the nasty mom was walking up to The Bay doors, well away enough from us that we could not possible be in her way. She was giving us the most awful look. It put stain on our lovely day.

Ya Broke Whore

Here's a great story from Monica about an altercation between three random people on the bus yesterday morning:

It’s Tuesday, 10:30am. I am on the 18 heading downtown.

I’m sitting in the back left corner and “Shelly” is in the back right. Shelly is probably in her early 40s, casually put together but unpolished, maybe had a slightly rough life. She has been on her phone and was talking slightly louder than she should have. She gets off saying even louder, “Disperse, disperse!” Kinda odd, but nothing too crazy for the 18.

Then a bunch of people get on at River and Osborne.

“Brenda”, a seemingly lower class late 30-something makes her way to the back and sits in the middle of the long back seat and “Doug”, a late 20s middle class wannabe gangsta, sits on the back sideways bench in front of me on the left side.

Doug is wearing shiny white sneakers, baggy jeans, over the ear headphones and a shirt with the likeness of Marilyn Monroe wearing a kerchief over her face, clad in a bikini and covered in gang tattoos.



As soon as Brenda sees this shirt she says with contempt, “Is that what happens 50 years later, you gotta be sold like a slut?” Doug chuckles.

Wait 15 seconds…she starts in again. "Fuck man, celebrities get no respect for all the shit they did and now this. Bing treated like sluts." Something, something "$10 blow jobs." And with this sentence she looks at Shelly trying to get a “comrade” to agree with her.

Shelly, obviously not impressed says, "What the fuck are you talking about. I don’t know about $10 blow jobs! Is that the going rate for blow jobs?"

Brenda, a little taken aback because she probably thought Shelly would agree with her replies "I don’t know, I’m just saying that they treat women like shit and it only costs them $10."

Shelly – "Why you fucking talking to me about $10 blow jobs. I don’t know how much whores charge for blow jobs. Is that how much you charge? Are you a fucking broke whore, ya broke whore?"

Brenda – "Fuck you I don’t know what blow jobs cost..."

Shelly – "Well you brought it up. Broke whore! Broke whore!"

We are now on Graham. Brenda gets up to leave, Doug, all riled up and wanting to join in to the trouble he caused says something like, "stop bitching about everything." Brenda retorts, giving him some body language, "you know what a bitch is. A fucking bitch is..." Well, in all honesty I don’t know what she said because all I could hear was Shelly yelling at the top her lungs, "Broke whore! Broke whore! Broke whore!" until Brenda was off the bus. Actually she kept yelling it out the window until we pulled away from the bus stop.

Doug and I look at each other and I say, "I don’t think you should wear that shirt again."