He got on with a brown bag of chicken nuggets, wearing a puffy coat and an oversize beanie. I was sitting shotgun, having just gotten off my block, chatting with the driver about how long it was. He sat down and jerkily swept his eyes around the bus. He wasn't the kind to make trouble, but he wanted someone to talk at, and neither the driver nor I wanted to win that lottery. We continued the conversation as the other passengers shifted away or eyed the man as if he was going to be the one to sell their children crank when they were old enough to light matches.
"Can you tell me," he grunt-yelled, "how tah get to the Ehmmeht Ivy Gahrage?" Thank god - a normal question, and one we could answer. "Well sir, this bus will take you -" she was cut off: "Nah! Nah now, I need to go to JPJ." "Sir...you just came from JPJ." Nah, uh, you know wha, what I do...[muttering loudly] you're never to old for an education! You don't think you're too old to be, ug. educated?" He paused, waiting for a response. I assumed he was drinking heavily, a 10-151 from the bag in his hand, but as the driver and I choked back stifled and kind of nervous laughter, telling him it probably didn't matter, he began eating chicken nuggets which he pulled from the bag in his lap. He started rambling something incoherent about the education system and must've gotten so caught up he forgot he was eating, because he started spraying chicken nuggets while he was talking. It was pretty disgusting, but I almost cracked up when I saw the driver, who looked she didn't know whether she wanted to cry or slap him. "Lemme out here!" he screeched suddenly, somewhere before the EIG. The driver gladly stopped the bus and he shuffled off. She turned to me and put her hand on her face, exasperated, only to discover a piece of chicken nugget there.
Ever since then I've never cursed a quiet ride ride, however long it is.