Bus Riding Stares

Written By: Dan “The Man” Sklut

Guys, we’ve all been in this situation before: you’re on a bus---- oh wait, this doesn’t work for you rich snobs who don’t ride buses. Showing off, driving your fancy cars. Yeah, whatever.

You don’t need a car to take a girl out on a date, anyway. You just pull up at her house on your bike, hand her some roller blades, and tell her to hold on. Personally, I’m a real gentleman when I go out on a date. I always pay my lady’s bus fare (like she’s old enough to drive anyway, right?). Then I take my lady out to the finest restaurant my coupon books and gift cards will allow (TGI Friday’s, anyone? Fancy steak-wiches, on me!). And she still agrees to a second date. After all, what has she got to lose? (Besides her virginity, I mean. Boo-yah!)

Huh. Kinda went off on a tangent there. But anyway, you’re on a bus, and you see a really hot chick. I’m talking, super-sexy, smokin’ hot, what-the-hell-is-she-doing-riding-public-transportation-in-LA-hot. And you want to stare at her. I mean, where else are you going to rest your eyes? You’re on a gloomy old crazy-people-and-stoned-teenagers bus, for chrissakes!

A little glance, that’s all you’re asking; nothing fancy. But societal norms forbid this. Yeah, god forbid you actually make some sort of contact with humanity. We’re so self-absorbed and isolated in our little electronic pre-occupations, the thought of even looking at a stranger is absurd! And if you make eye contact, things get really heavy. You start to squirm in your seat, fidget with your fingers and phone, and wonder, “Why is she looking at me? It was supposed to just be me looking at her! She’s breaking the made-up rules society has taught us to mindlessly obey!”

Inevitably, you want to look again, but this time you have a plan. When she catches you looking at her, and she will, because you made it so painfully obvious, you quickly look in the opposite direction from where you were staring. A little owl-style maneuver, as if that’s somehow more normal than staring. You do, however, run the risk of looking like more of a jackass moving your head from side to side like a panicked cat than you do just taking that quick stare and returning to your original eye position. But you do it anyway.

Is there any time people actually do that when they aren’t staring? “Oh, I’m just looking both ways before I cross the bus! Or maybe I’m looking out for some hit man that I owe money. Or maybe I’m just really bad with directions, and have to check my surroundings every two minutes!”

Who are you fooling, man? No one, that’s who. That quick little stare at the chick is always ten times longer than that half-assed double-take behind you that follows. And the chick knows that, and notices it right away. So she squirms in her seat a little, fidgets with her fingers and phone, tries to make her tiny little tank top cover her heaving bosom. Maybe you try to fake a smile and mutter, “Hey, how’s it going,” at sub-audible levels. But the damage is done. She knows you looked. Pervert.