Bus Benches
The looming mass approached me and I sat there unmoving—convinced this large man would soon awaken to the problem before us which I shall call: your fat ass, my fat ass, and the bus seat.
His girth was not minimal, and mine certainly isn't negligible in its own right. The bench I occupied professed to seat two, and, indeed, I can verify that I have seen it do just that on a number of occasions. Some even featuring my ass. Just never two of my ass. This gentleman, I'm sad to report, was two of me. Save the metal arm rests on either side of the bench, I could see making this work.
Just as I decided that he had sized up the situation and opted to seek other accommodations, he decided quite the opposite. Before I could find the brave words to suggest another alternative, he squeezed himself between me and the metal barrier. It was not comfortable for me. It could not have possibly been comfortable for him. But, there we rode, him overflowing onto me and around the metal bar, me pressed uncomfortable under him and into the armrest.
As I sat there I couldn't help but wonder what went through his mind when he made that choice. I didn't come to a conclusion, but I did decide that I should be flattered that he determined that the amount of bench I was subtracting from the whole wasn't too great to impede his comfort.
His girth was not minimal, and mine certainly isn't negligible in its own right. The bench I occupied professed to seat two, and, indeed, I can verify that I have seen it do just that on a number of occasions. Some even featuring my ass. Just never two of my ass. This gentleman, I'm sad to report, was two of me. Save the metal arm rests on either side of the bench, I could see making this work.
Just as I decided that he had sized up the situation and opted to seek other accommodations, he decided quite the opposite. Before I could find the brave words to suggest another alternative, he squeezed himself between me and the metal barrier. It was not comfortable for me. It could not have possibly been comfortable for him. But, there we rode, him overflowing onto me and around the metal bar, me pressed uncomfortable under him and into the armrest.
As I sat there I couldn't help but wonder what went through his mind when he made that choice. I didn't come to a conclusion, but I did decide that I should be flattered that he determined that the amount of bench I was subtracting from the whole wasn't too great to impede his comfort.
posted by granola girl at 6:01 pm
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