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.

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."

The Female "Frank Booth"

After reading this story from Ashley, I immediately thought of Frank Booth from the film Blue Velvet. But it's about a girl. A teenage girl. Holy hell. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, please see the video embedded after the story:

And just when I think I’ve seen it all.

We’ve all seen the same people on the bus. The rowdy kids sticking their arms out the windows, the ones with the strollers forcing elderly people out of their seats so they can squeeze in, the ones who roll hand-made cigarettes, the drunks who try and sneak a sip of Lucky when they think no one is looking. But has anyone ever seen someone doing drugs? I have, and she’s not pretty.

Let me just describe the situation. It’s about 3 o’clock in the afternoon and the 18 Jefferson is beyond full. I’m pretty sure the bus driver is turning people away because the bus was as packed as a mosh pit at a rock concert. I am in front of the back door, pressed up against people I don’t know and facing others I’d wished I wasn’t facing.

Then, this girl gets on. And this girl was crazy.

First, I hear her, from where I am, telling the driver “my friend has my transfer. She’s at the back of the bus.” Of course he lets her on - her friend has her transfer.

Then, she starts yelling at other passengers, “excuse me!” Now, I say yelling, because I shouldn’t be able to hear her from where I am. Then she tells her friend, “Hold onto me. I’m saying excuse me. If they don’t move, they’re rude.” No, they’re not rude, there just isn’t any room for people to move to. So, naturally, she starts pushing her way to where I am. She squeezes in with her friend in front of the back door and is now about an arms length away from me.

“I just bought so many pills! Yeah, look!” *Opens her purse and shakes around multiple pill bottles*

Uh. ‘Kay.

After screaming “whore” at a girl who got off the bus, the girl reaches into her purse and pulls out a small piece of paper and I now smell marijuana. I turn and look at her and as I turn back, I hear her tell her friends, “hold me up” and “cover me.” I can see her moving around some powder on what looked like a gum wrapper. Then she says, “It’s like people have never seen drugs before.” No, I’m sure they have, just not in the hands of a 16-year-old while riding public Transit during rush hour. But, that’s just a guess.

I’ll state here that I’ve never done drugs and know little, to nothing, about them.

I move back up onto the first stair and pretend to text on my phone when she and her two friends sit down in the three seats facing the back door but there were only two open seats so one girl sat on another girls lap. Little Miss Junkie then asked the elderly man beside her to move over. To where, the floor? He wasn’t taking up any more room than he was allowed. He looked at her and looked away without moving an inch. She turns back to her friends, “I asked him to move and he just looked at me.” Uh, DUH.

She starts pointing at someone and at first I think it’s me, and saying “What the f**k are you looking at? Don’t f**king look at me. Next time you look at me I’ll kick you a*s.” Then, thankfully, I figure out she isn’t talking about me and I make my way to the first open seat. I sit down and continue to look out the window and stare around the bus. But when I glance down at her for a second, I see her snorting whatever was in the gum wrapper and then stare blankly ahead.

She just snorted coke, on the bus, during rush hour.

Why do I assume it was coke? Because there was a nice white line of a chalky-looking substance smeared across her cheek, and I doubt she was snorting Rockets.

The Booger Burglar

Here's a pretty disgusting story from Nicole:

About 2 years ago, I got on the 66 Grant to head to work during the busy Christmas season. I was so happy to find an empty seat beside a normal looking middle aged woman. The seat was a gift despite the bus being packed with people. I sat down relieved with my good luck and wondered why no one else took the opportunity to sit down. And then, the truth became disgustingly apparent. From the corner of my eye, I see my seat buddy pick her nose and proceed to "play" with the gigantic piece of yellow snot ball. It was probably the biggest piece of snot that I ever saw (and I work in health-care). After stretching it and rolling it, I am absolutely horrified when the woman proceeds to eat the mass of mucous like a delicious piece of candy. At this point, I am almost dry heaving. I quickly abandon the seat and stand for the remainder of my bus ride. A few stops later, a man got on the packed bus and sat down in the same seat, unaware of the horror that unfolded moments before. True to form, the woman again went in for a second helping of snot. The man looked as though he was trying to ignore it while I was dry heaving at the back of the bus.

The Eye Cleaner

Here's a nice mental picture for you from Chichi:

No word of a lie, while I was on a Winnipeg transit bus today, I witnessed a man not just once, but twice clean out his eyes with his finger tips and then LICK ALL OF HIS FINGER TIPS!! So disgusting!

Negative Energy

Here's another odd bus story from Weirdos of Winnipeg:

An older man and a younger woman are sitting side-by-side on the bus. He's happily reading his Uptown magazine. They sit silently for several blocks. Then, out of nowhere:

She: You need to get your negative energy away from me.

He: Huh?

She: I saw the way you were looking at me at the bus stop. What right do you have to then come and sit beside me?

He: *confused*

She: And now you're giving me the same look. Your negative energy is ruining my day. You need to find a different place to sit.

He: [looks around. There is clearly no other place to sit] I'm ... just reading my paper.

She: And now you're looking at me like I'm crazy! Take your negative energy away from me. [rants for quite awhile about his negative energy]

He: Oh, just shut up already!

She: What right do you have to tell a stranger to shut up? You need to find a different place to sit. Next time there's a seat you need to find a different place to sit.

He: [reaches past her and dings the bell. Angrily.]

Mr. Car takes the Bus

A funny observation from Angela:

One day i was on the bus and this guy jumped on the bus wearing a license plate around his neck. Then he sat at the front of the bus and he started to make driving noises. After that he started saying all the names of the streets and it was hilarious.

AC/DC idiots singing on the bus

At first I was thinking, "god, what jerks!", that old guy looks really annoyed. But it's a chartered bus! I guess the old guy was an AC/DC fan after all.

Thrown off the Bus!

Here's a pretty crazy story from Sherri:

Years ago I was on the 18 bus in the middle of winter. This native guy on the crowded bus starting making racial comments and threats to another passenger who was black. This went on for a while. All of a sudden the bus stops and a man got up and held the door gate open. Then 4 other men got up and they grabbed the native guy's arms and legs; they then threw him out the back door into the snow. I still remember the look on the guy's face when he found himself standing in the snow.

Not a word was said amongst the other passengers.

Kramer vs. The Turtle

I will be reposting old stories from the no-longer-updated website, Weirdos of Winnipeg. He had some great bus stories on there. Here's one of my favorites:

Two old men got on separately on the #62.

The first old man, who looked like a 76-year-old Kramer from Seinfeld was chatty with everyone. The second old man, who resembled a turtle, sat next to him.

Nearing University Crescent, the turtle senior put his arm up to ring the ding and Kramer senior turned towards him and said: "You better put your (insert swear words here) hand down. I'm serious. I'll cut you up." Everyone was taken aback...turtle senior got off. Kramer got off a few stops later in Fort Richmond and started dancing (as though running through a field of daisies) towards a Robins Donuts.

Great Pizza at a Great Price!

Here's a story from Brodie that could easily be a viral marketing campaign for Pizza Hotline, please make this ad "bunch of 2s"!

So anyone who rides the bus has seen the ads that are inside. One of the ads is for Pizza Hotline. Last week on the #18 a rather inebriated young man took a sheen to the Pizza Hotline ad, stood on his chair and proceeded to caress the pizza in the ad and than started singing the jingle (222 22 22 GREAT PIZZA AT A GREAT PRICE). He then started licking the ad and the bus driver kicked him in the Village where he wandered away into the night.

That reminds me of when I caught the downtown flyer to go to the forks last summer, and the bus was a special Hepatitis bus or something that was painted yellow, with only those "pee in a cup" ads up and down the aisle. The funny thing was, the whole bus also stunk like urine.

Smells like French Fries

Here's poor Katie's experience on the 47:

when I was 16 I had finally gotten my first job. It was in a Fast food restaurant that was 10 minutes away. I would ride the 47 to and from every shift. One evening I got on after a particularly long night and had noticed there was one incredibly drunk homeless looking man at the front of the bus switching seats quite quickly and frequently. He had been making poor attempts at non-creepy conversation with other riders but failed miserably.

As we got deeper into Transcona and about 5 stops away from home the man ended up behind me. He finally went silent for a minute until I felt and heard a large sniff by my left ear and then a loud whisper of "MMMM YOU SMELL LIKE FRENCH FRIIIIES!!" being 16 and alone I was instantly mortified and opted to get off a stop early to get away.

To this day I make sure to never get on a bus smelling like anything besides soap.

Image via @ Conasse

The Female Serial Killer

Here's a pretty hilarious story from Catherine:

I have been taking the bus for over 10 years now. When I started I was 15 and apparently a freak magnet because every undesirable used to sit beside me.

One day, I happened upon the solution (by accident, mind you). I was reading on the bus this fateful day, ignoring everyone as usual. The book was called "Female Serial Killers" (I am female and was a psych student at the time). A very disgusting man smelling of old cigarettes and a lot of liquor sat beside me. I noticed his eyes rove over the pages of what I was reading (I hate when people do that). Annoyed, in an effort to deter him, I shut the book, exposing the title.

I wish I could have seen the look on his face when he realized he was sitting beside a female reading about female serial killers, because he very slowly, very VERY slowly, got up and sat at the front of the bus, as far away from me as possible.

Mission accomplished.

WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO ME: Bus Cellphone Etiquette

I'm sure we've all come across this at some point. I mean, talking on a headset or headphones rather than holding the cancerous cellphone directly to your head is always a good idea, but weird conversations like this are still always best to have in private! From GB:

Coming home from work one day, my boyfriend and I found ourselves sat on the front two seats, facing the line of fold-down sideways-facing seats, which were unoccupied. As we reached Osborne, a girl got on, sat on the sideways seat and said loudly "WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO ME?", while staring in our direction, towards everyone else on the bus. It took us (and the whole bus) a while to realize that she was wearing a cellphone headpiece and was arguing with some poor soul on the other end. The silence that came after her demand, along with the strange stare down the bus and the fact that the cellphone cord was hidden by her hair, put everyone on edge!

So, listen up crazies:
1) Those headphone things are meant for when you can't use your hands - if you're sat on the bus, just hold your phone to your ear! At least then it's obvious you're not picking a fight with a stranger (or maybe your are, we don't know who's on the other end. Bottom line: if it's not aimed at us, we don't care)
2) If you're going to talk into seemingly mid-air, don't stare at other people while you do it, it's just WEIRD.

I've also seen courteous people hold the mouthpiece part of their phone closer to their mouth, so a) they can speak quietly, and b) give everyone else the signal that they're not just talking to themselves.

New Year's Poop

Here is a very descriptive story from Jenny about a bunch of guys fawning over poop on the bus:

On New Year's Eve in 2008, I caught the 11 heading downtown. I grabbed a seat near the middle of the bus, closest to the doors. Behind me, I could hear a bunch of young guys commenting on their friend's disgusting, yet impressive, accomplishment of taking a shit directly on one of the bus seats only moments before. Their conversation was full of comments like, "That's totally sick, man," and, "I can't believe you just did that." However, they must have been rather proud of this feat, since they remained sitting in close proximity to the crap, as if it were one of the guys who was joining them on their New Year's adventure.

This was taking place only two seats away from me. I was terrified, although tempted, to turn around and look at the spectacle unfolding. Since the odor had graciously not yet wafted in my direction, I decided not to turn around for a peek. The description of the turd and the nervous repulsion of the passengers nearby was enough to paint a pretty detailed picture in my head. Now it's in yours.

The Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum of Hockey fans

Here's another story from Sam, with people again accosting her because of her beautiful hair!

I'll tell one last one then save some more for another day... It was game 3 in the playoffs and i was watching the score on my phone when these two guys (completely drunk) come sit near the back facing me. (I was sitting on the row of chairs facing the back door) They're talking about the game and wondering what the score is so politely i told them that I had the score and would let them know if anything changed. They were so excited and happy but then they got creepy. haha

One was telling the other "don't say anything to scare her away! we need her" while the other one kept saying "you have really nice hair, it looks so soft... can i touch it?". I definitely refused so his friend got upset and started getting mad at his buddy thinking I was going to leave with the score. So I listened to these guys argue and the one ask if he can take me home and PULL my hair. no thanks!

He Broke His Balls

Here's a bit of an insane story from Marcie:

It was a miserable February evening: frigid, windy, dark, and on the bus. I had been working at the University all day, and my brain was angry like a cat who's stomach just got touched (wide eyed, looks innocent enough, but her claws haven't been trimmed for weeks).

I sat at the front of the bus, ready to give up my seat for priority riders, when a heavily intoxicated man got on at York street. He was weaving around, trying to get his change out of his pocket, stalling the inevitable "I don't have enough change. I just need to get to Osborne" line. The bus driver stepped on the gas, and the drunk guy grabbed onto a pole and swung around, nearly hitting the sloshy, sloppy, gravel filled aisle, shouting "Hey bus driver! You nearly broke my balls!"

The ever articulate, and sauced up gentleman decided the spot beside me was the best seat for him to occupy. My claws came out, and were looking for the most expensive leather couch around to tear apart. He shouted, again, at the driver "You almost broke my balls!" I, eyes wide, tail poofed out, hair on the back of my neck like pins, shouted back "No one gives a fuck about your balls! Stop talking about your balls! Or I really will break them." Every single rider laughed. I just noticed my elevated heart rate, my overheated self in snow pants and scarf, and that I couldn't get the image of cracked walnuts out of my mind.

He stopped shouting. And, at my stop, I told the driver that "the guy sitting next to me is a total douche and making people uncomfortable." Justice was swift, and the driver kicked him off the bus.

Walking away from the stop, the deathly cold evening air helped perpetuate an eternal echo of the man at the bus stop shouting "He broke my balls, man!"