I always choose to sit on the right side of the bus. Right as in opposed to left, that is. The right side of the bus always faces the sun on my route, and the 90 minute ride is practically the only time I can see it. I always try to get a window seat, but that's not really possible in the mornings; the bus is way too full by the time it pulls up to my stop.
On the way home, however, I usually am able to catch a window seat before all the seats are taken. The other day I found my lovely window seat and plopped down, rudely spreading my bag and books on the seat next to me so no one would take it.
The bus took off and I observed my surroundings: trees, people, animals, cars, etc. As I was scrutinizing the homeless man wave his arms in the air like a lunatic, I noticed something different about this particular window.
A smudge.
A print, to be more specific.
A forehead print.
Can I insert a quick note here? I'm the type of person who hates finding finger prints on the windows. It's probably one of my biggest pet-peeves. Every few days I'll attack the glass doors at my work with some heavy-duty Windex and extra-strength paper towels. I think finger prints are icky, nasty, gross, irritating, and just plain disgusting. (Yes, I do know those are all synonyms.)
So you can understand why seeing this forehead print just three inches from my face would make my stomach flip. What was I supposed to do with a window that bares the mark of some random person's sweaty face?
I felt ill. My stomach wouldn't stop churning. It couldn't be car sickness; I'd popped a Dramamine before I left work.
It's not like I could have moved, either. The bus was already cruising at 70 mph on the freeway.
All I could do was lean back, breathe in and out through my mouth, and ignore the window.
What kind of person smushes their face across the window of a public bus?!
I'm still geekin' out about it.
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