The Bus Trip From Hell

One time my school bus hit an ambulance as it pulled out onto the main street on it's way to rescue someone from a burning wreck. The bus driver lady was pretty nice to us, too. After that, she retired or something. All I know is we never saw her again.

This other time, my 3rd grade teacher Ms. Moxley got into a fight with a couple of gangsta looking dudes while we were on a field trip. For some reason, we had to take public transit to the museum that day, I'm not sure why. Maybe the retarded kids were using the official yellow school bus or some shit. Either way, we all packed into a public bus, and as it turns out, some of us ended up having to sit way in the back were the tough guys are. Ms. Moxley (pimple faced mean woman who we later learned was bald, funny story that) was a hard woman and did not back down when the teenage punk said "Bitch best not step on my foot, now!" as she walked by. She did not back down. She stepped on his foot and he slapped her. Then she punched him in the face over and over again until the bus driver stopped the bus. The dude's friend got scared of Ms. Moxley and wanted no part of that, so he grabbed his friend and forced the back door open and took off.

Lastly, in high school this one time, I was going to hang out with my friend after school at his house and play video games or something, so we took his usual bus. I'd never been on this bus before, but it was empty except for me, my friend, and this short round woman wearing nothing but flip-flop slippers, a large t-shirt with a belt around the waist (wtf?), and plastic grocery bags tied around her hands and feet (Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!). "What's up with her?" I asked my friend, Bobby. "She's wierd, man. Check this out." he said as he made his way towards her, making like he was going to grab a bus schedule. As he took a schedule, he looked back at me, mouthed "watch this,", and brushed his hand against the exposed skin of her forearm. SHE. FREAKED. OUT. She started yelling at him about germs and shit and just went on and on. What I didn't get is this; If she's a germ freak, then why only were a t-shirt and some plastic bags over your hands and feet? Whatever, weird lady.

 

One time I was sitting on a bus wearing flip flops, my favorite t-shirt that I keep from flying up with a neat, fancy little belt, and NO PANTS, as usual. I had taken every precaution in preventing the spread of those evil, disease-causing GERMS by covering my hands and feet with pastic bags that I had sterilized the night before with rubbing alcohol and Schlitz Malt Liquor.

So. There I was, minding my own business on the bus, on my way to Home Depot to buy some vinyl siding to keep out those creepy, crawly, disgusting GERMS sent straight personally from SATAN himself to give me bubonic plague (God called me up on the phone and warned me). I had planned to line my currently exposed forearms with aforementioned vinyl siding, I pay no heed to the fact that I'm not wearing any pants, since my legs, ass, and pubic region have been magically protected by an incantation I put on them last Thursday, where I would recite the name of Wink Martindale 20 times in succession while waving various Hostess Snack products around my pubic area.

Aaaaaanyway, all of a sudden these two snot-nosed punks walk into the bus. I could immediately smell their GERMS wafting through the GERM-filled air into my exposed nostrils. Lucky for me I had inserted two cigarette filters deep into my sinuses the night before to ward off just such an occurence. After the grand mal seizure that immediately followed, I deemed I was ready for just about anything.

Little did I realize the travesty, emotional and physical pain and suffering, and utter diabolical EVIL that was about to ensue.

These two idiotic punks started eyeing me up and down, I'm assuming they were obviously jealous of the wonderful germ-protecting shields I had fashioned over my hands and feet. They started whispering to each other what I can only guess were remarks about what a brilliant GENIUS I am, and how envious they are that I have devised a way to block out the millions of tiny germs that currently CRAWL and INVADE their pathetic, un-protected bodies.

Finally one of them gets up, and comes near me to grab WITH HIS BARE HANDS a disgusting, infested, GERM-laden schedule. What happened next defied all human decency and reason.

HE BRUSHED AGAINST MY ARM.

Suddenly millions of microscopic, crawling, malicious, disgusting evil GERMS sprang onto me, invading my body and slowly taking over my free will, my mind, and my very life essence. I felt the hand of Satan incarnate take hold of my spirit, as the germs infested through me with their tiny, tiny little evil GERMY mouths. Gnawing, chomping, eating me ALIVE and filling my pure, clean wholesome essence with putrid Satanic GERM evil.

I proceeded to inform that ignorant punk of what he had done, the essence of evil he had unleashed upon the world, but he and his idiot friend wouldn't listen. I weep for their corrupted souls, overcome with GERMS and DISEASE, more silent victims to the Satanic Onslaught of viruses, bacteria, and microorganisms that are secretly satan's demonic minions sent to earth to destroy us all. I know. God told me.

It's too late for those two. They who wallow in filth and disease and pestilence. I pray for their souls, but know it is a lost cause. When I got home that fateful day, I hosed myself off with gallons hydrochloric acid and Vaseline. It took a while for my skin to grow back, but it was worth it to once again be close to God.

Cleanliness is Godliness.

 

I got on the bus one morning to discover the entire front of the bus smelled exactly like old lady urine. Three seats in the front were also covered in thin liquidy lines, as though someone had sat in something wet for a while and then had left.
Instead if staying next to the extremely pungent odor of the elderly, I went to the back. There were exactly three people back there, but somehow these three managed to take up a total of more than nine of the available seats. All of them were wearing enormous headphones of the kind generally associated with air traffic controllers and people convinced that demons are trying to suck their brains out of their ears.
To top it off, they were all listening to that specific kind of rap music that involves extremely heavy bass thumping and, of all things, chimes. Every fifteen seconds, chimes. It drove me INSANE.
Anyway, they were all listening to songs with different beats; the effect this made was a bass thumping that went something like this:
BUMBUM BUMBUMBUMBUMBUMMMMMMUMUMUBUM BUM BUMBUMMMBUMBUMUMMMUMMMMUBUM BUM BUUMMMMMBUM. Every time the beats were silent at the same time, the chiming was audible.
Lo and behold, a fourth person dressed exactly the same way suddenly appears at the back of the bus. I gather this one was female, because it sat down next to one of the other three and the two began an extremely........ impassioned debate. Except that it didn't involve talking or hand gestures, just a lot of loud suction noises. I'm still not entirely sure which part of their clothing represented which part of their bodies, and frankly I don't want to.
Finally the bus ride was over, and I got off.
About eight hours later, I got on what was (I hope) the same bus. It was still permeated with the extremely malodorous scent of old lady piss, and the same two forms were in the same place, still making suction noises. After eight hours.
So, not wishing to be near either them or the (thankfully dried) lingering pool of urine, I took a seat somewhere towards the middle of the bus. The bus filled up fast, and pretty quickly I overheard what sounded like the kind of lecture usually associated with the senile.
There was a girl about three rows in front of me and on the other side who was surreptitiously eating out of a take-out Chinese food container. Behind her, an old lady was saying something about her rights. The conversation, as I recall, went something like this. (Keep in mind this lady was in her 60s, and the girl was probably in the range of 16-17)

Lady: It's my right to be on the bus! You don't have no right to eat on it! See the sign, you crazy bitch?

Girl: Stop! I'm not a bitch! (munch munch)

Lady: You crazy ni***rs, you all the same! Eating every chance you get! I ain't gonna put up with it no more!

Bus driver: Hey, settle down back there!

Girl: This is harrassment! I don't have to take this!

Lady: It's not my fault you're too goddamn stupid to follow the fucking law, cunt!

Girl: FUCK OFF! (cries)

Bus driver: Lady, if you keep that up I'm going to have to ask you to leave the bus.

Lady: It's my right! Freedom of speech. You can't take that away from me, and neither can this motherfucking little whore!

Girl: I FUCKING HATE YOU YOU GODDAMN FUCKING BITCH!

At this point, one of them got kicked off the bus. I don't remember which. At the same stop, another old lady got on the bus. She was wearing sweatpants. There was a growing wet spot leaking down one leg. She smelled exactly like the bus had earlier that day.
I looked around and realized that the only spot left on the bus was the one right next to me. "Oh, FUCK no!" I thought. No such luck. She sat down right next to me.
I scrunched myself up against the window as much as possible, hoping to avoid the extremely pungent odors wafting out from her. The smell alone made me want to throw up.
Pretty quickly she started having trouble keeping her seat. Apparantly the puddle had grown so large that she was sliding around on it.

I ended up waiting about a half hour for her to move, too afraid of her touching me with any part of her body to say anything. When she did get up, the puddle had expanded onto the floor, and I was crouching in fetal position halfway up the window.

So, yeah. That was a fun bus ride. :???:

 

For some reason, where I live, if you don't want to be bothered, you sit down the back of the bus. Why? Because all the crazy/old/smelly/ugly/undesirable/fat people gravitate towards the front. Maybe they can't be bothered walking any farther back, for which I am grateful, but I've seen some freaks. Thankfully my habit of sitting down the back kept them away from me. Like the 3 or 4 people from the school for special people. The guy who is covered in what looks like 10 times their regular size (I'm serious, the guy is covered in them) and the Greek/Italian guys who sit somewhere in the middle and have loud conversations with each other. I haven't had any horror bus rides yet, but I once left an impressive...wait, that's not good, you don't want to hear about it.

I personally think Etalis' story takes the prize.

 

Okay, for some background on my (true) story, just remember that I was a nine-year-old kid at this time: impressionable, chock-full of my own imagined abilities, with tips and tricks from comics and stuff.

So it was after school, and I, along with a few buddies, were waiting for the school bus like the nice little kids we were. I can't remember exactly, but I think I must have been a very good mood that day.

Soon enough the bus came, and we got on.

Now it was unusually packed that day, and my friends, who went in first, found themselves places at the back. That was where we usually sat. I noticed, however, a whole row (a row being two seats side by side) left vacant in front. I promptly plunked myself down. My friends gave me sort of a quizzical look, but I figured it was because I wasn't seating with them.

The next stop was a at a secondary school (which did not have a good reputation). Now in Malaysia usually the senior high school students go to class in the morning (i.e. the teens getting on the buss now were at least 16 years old).

Up came one particular toughie whom I knew by sight. I reached maybe his shoulder if I tiptoed.

He came up to me and said "Ni tempat duduk saya." (This is my place). I don't know what came over me then - I guess I was too naive to think rationally. I pretended not to hear him.

He pulled me up by the collar and glared at me in the face. He let go and here we were, a callow nine-year-old and a hoodlum of sixteen nearly two heads taller, staring at each other. My friends were probably covering their eyes.

It was then when I did probably the most unexpected thing one could ever do. It was something only a kid would have done, something only an idiot would even have thought of. Maybe it was too much TV - I don't know.

I slicked back my hair.


Now you must understand clearly how this is done. There are some variations of this; the most harmless one being pretending that you are about to shake someone else's hand, and in one quick motion pull it up at the last minute in a moment of coolness and geekiness combined. It depends on the context.

The teen noticably flinched, almost jumping back to avoid the blow he thought would have followed the movement of my arm. And there, just for that moment in time, I was all-powerful. I had humiliated the sucker - me, a nine-year-old, had caused him to flinch. The bus was filled with silent awe for my silent victory. I had shown them the true meaning of fearlessness.




Epilogue - said nine-year-old subsequently got the stuffing beat out of him and would possibly not be here typing in this forum had the frail bus-driver not intervened with a rattan stick.

 

Eeehm....I once got on a bus...and it started driving....and we got out at the end...

Pretty damn boring busses we have here!

Anyway, I vote Etalis' story to be the best (poor sod ) and chalcedony's one the funniest.
How are those bruises healing after a buncha years son?

 

When I was about 6 - maybe 7 - years old, my brother, who is 2 years older, and his friend decided we were skipping school. As I pretty much did as he told me up until the age of 10 or so, I went along with him. Besides, it sounded exiting.

We set off from home as usual, walking down our street and the next to where Chris, his friend, lived. We said an innocent hello and goodbye to his parents, then walked off towards school. As soon as we were safely out of sight, we switched directions and walked up to a shop we knew. There, we bought 20 Benson and Hedges and a box of matches. Nowadays, I'd personally kick in the balls any shopkeeper selling smokes to a few under 8 yr olds, but at that point in my life such people were a convenience - and there were many of them.

On the way to the shop, I remember a kid called Ian Gunnery, from my class at school, called out of his window to me as I passed his house. The fact he had seen me walking in the wrong direction - quite healthy - was to give me a few moments of quiet apprehension during the rest of our day out.

Once we had our cigarettes, the plan was to get a bus to some local woodland and arse around there all day. We had to get a number 99, and we boarded it from near the shop we'd walked to. The 99's route then took us back the way we had come before heading off through Erith towards Bostal Woods, where we wanted to go.

The bus stopped several times before it even got to Erith, with the usual daytime crowd of old people and mothers with babies getting on, plus the remnants of the workers. We spent our time on the top deck of the bus, messing around, being noisy and generally acting like kids breaking free for a day. Then, at a bus stop not far from our house, horror struck.

Chris and Paul were messing about, and I was looking out of the window. So it was only me, at first, that saw my mum queueing up to get on the bus. After a moment of gob-smacked disbelief, I started pointing and mutely mouthing the alert, which had absolutely no impact on the noisy mucking about of the other two. I managed to pull myself together enough - with a heroic effort - not to wet my pants, then slid off the seat and scooted over to Paul, hissing "Mum just got on!"

At first, Paul didn't believe me. He's always been prone to take everything I say half in jest (he knows me very well, after all), so just mocked me for trying to get one over on him. Not to be deterred, I pulled him towards the bus stairwell. I didn't immediatly look down it, though. I had a horrible moment where I realised there was a good chance my mum was walking up it at that very moment. Instead, I edged towards it fearfully, and eventually poked my head halfway around. Mum was not climbing it. Noone was. Mum was sitting in plain site of it on the bottom deck, though, causing me to jerk my head back spastically. I think my obviously genuine fear finally penetrated Paul's skepticism at this point. He had a glimpse down the stairs himself, before emulating my panicked jerk back out of site.

We looked at each other. We both knew what it would mean if mum saw us - the severe public humiliation of being told off on the bus then dragged home. This would be followed by approximately 8 hours of pants wetting fear as we waited for Dad to get home and explode. Then, of course, we'd humiliated again at school the next day. Naturally, this prospect seemed like the Sword of Damocles to us (or possibly more like a bogeyman under the bed, ready to jump out at any moment, to our young minds). We needed to avoid it at all costs. We needed to stave off disaster somehow. Should we go and talk to mum, making up some eleborate lie? Should we try to sneak off the bus with a crowd at a busy stop? We needed a plan.

The one we hit upon was elegant in its simplicity and its cowardice. We grabbed Chris and ducked down behind the rear seats on the top deck. We then stayed there for AGES. When the bus stopped, one of us would peer out to see if mum got off. About 10 minutes - 6 stops or so - later, she did.

Of course, we immediately resumed being boys instead of mice, putting our sobering experience behind us without effort. We got off a little later at the woods and spent what turned out to be one of the most enjoyable days of my life running around the woods on a fne English day, "smoking" cigarettes and generally revelling in our stolen freedom.

 

Hehe on the bus ride to poland not long ago i fell asleep. During my long and comfertable sleep some of my classmates suddenly decided they were bored so they wrote goat in my forehead. When i woke upp i suddenly noticed that evryone was calling me a goat, and that the teachers suddenly had this funny smile whenever i talked with them. So at a mcdonalds one of the people on the counter told mee that i had "goat" written in my forehead and that i had been walking around with that in my forehead the whole day. No wonder evryone looked at me so weird. I was not treated worst though one of the boys on the bus also fell asleep on the boat from germany to poland, My classmate was drunk when this happened and therefore much meaner. They burned of his hair shaved of his eyebrows and all the hair on his testikles, drawed all over him before they put a bottle of old danish upp his arse.
Also on of my friends got his hands on a toy sword. a small sword with plastic foam around it. With that you can fight withuot getting hurt. The sword was like a long clubb about 4 centimeters in diamater. Now what they did was that they pulled a concom over the sword making it look like a huge cock. Now there was this girl that fell asleep with her mouth open. So what they did was that they pushed this unto her mouth wich caused her to gag and to try to swallow ir whatever and to finally to wake upp. Imgaine waking up with huge toysword in you mouth.

 

God, Qil. You and your friends are into sodomizing sleeping children, aren't you? You'd get thrown in prison doing that stuff here. Sticking the beer bottle in the kids ass would definitely be considered anal rape or at least sexual misconduct with a minor. And gagging a sleeping girl with a condom covered sword? Jeez.

Anyway, I have one more bad bus story. During my freshman year of high school, my friend and I came up with this plan to save money by buying one month-long bus pass and sharing it rather than buying two. What we did was, one of us would get on the bus using the pass. Then we'd move to the back of the bus and drop our wallet out of the window where the other would pick it up and use it again. This was all cool, and the bus driver never caught on. Or she just didn't give a shit which, in hindsight, is a lot more likely.

Now one day, my friend and I pooled our money together to go two ways on a new video game for the SNES. Maybe it was Super Metroid, I'm not sure now, but suffice it to say, we were itching to get the game. I had our money in my wallet and I thought we were both going to the game store right after school to pick up our cartridge. He had different plans. All I know is, as I stood in line to get on the bus, I looked back and saw my friend standing not too far away, so I assumed that he'd be right behind me as usual waiting for my wallet to drop out the window.

I didn't know what went wrong, but somehow he ended up not getting on the bus. It turns out that he wasn't standing in line for the bus, he was waiting at the curb for his ride. Imagine my surprise when the bus took off and he wasn't on it. Neither was my wallet, which not only had my bus pass, but also our Super Metroid money.

To make a long story shorter, I eventually found my wallet in the school's lost and found, minus the $40 bucks or so, and minus our bus pass. It turns out that my friend's mom was picking him up right after school for a doctor's appointment and he either forgot to tell me, or I wasn't paying attention to him when he did. And since I thought we were going to the game store, I got on a different bus than the one that took me home. Not a big deal, except that I had no money and no bus pass to catch the bus home, so I had to beg for busfare.

 

These stories are all hilarious. Except Qil's. His just turns me on.

Anyway, I hate to post something here to ruin the good string of funny stories we've had, but maybe this will cause a smile or two. Or at least heart-felt sympathy.

I was in kindergarten. (This is generally American's first year of school) I was 6 years old. Like someone else said, impressionable. Now, one particular morning, on the bus ride to school, I found myself at the back, seated with the highschool kids. A few of them lived on my dirt road, so I was a little comfortable around them. Said comfort lead to disaster.

As I have mentioned before, I am red-headed. Dashingly good-looking, but red-headed all the same. One of the highschoolers on my bus started to call me "Woody Woodpecker", and asking me if I had a pecker that I pecked with. Well, I immediately picked up on his saxual inthewindow, so I informed him I did. The next thing I did was the cause of my extreme embarrasment some minutes later.

I jumped up, grabbed the top of the back of the seat in front of me, and started thrusting my hips, slamming them into the seatback. It made a really funny noise, "thwump thwump thwump". All to the extreme amusement of the highschoolers. As they cheered and laughed and clapped, I just grinned and started pumping harder. "THWUMP THWUMP THWUMP!" The teenagers rolled with laughter. I was elated. Here was a group of older, cool guys, and I was making them laugh. I ground in even harder. While I was humping away, I was looking at the older guys, so I didn't notice that the bus had stopped at a rail-road crossing, and, even worse, I didn't notice that the bus driver was staring right at me. I humped on several seconds more, before the driver hollered at me to "SIT DOWN!" I turned and looked and to my horror saw his face scowling at me in the big mirror above his seat. I sat immediately, my face burning. The older guys, who had been my equals for a couple of minutes, still laughed, although this time at my embarrassment, not my monkeying about.

After we got to the school the bus driver pulled me to the side, and had a long talk with me. He threatened to call my mom, or tell the principal, but I know what he was thinking. Here was this little 60 pound redheaded boy humping one of his seats. What on earth is his home-life like? To this day, I avoided eye-contact with that driver.

I just felt so, so.........dirty.

 

That last one was just great.

 

IRT this entire thread: Awwwww..... and :-o

 

retard, yours turns me OFF.

 

retard, that was fuckin' great, I'm still laughing. I think a Woody Woodpecker custom avatar for you would be appropriate.

 

Hmmm...this isn't so much a humourous incident as a collection of what I'm going to term...the Bus Wars.

As some may know, I used to live in the Middle East. Being that I lived in a country known as Bahrain, for some reason, the expats (short for expatriates, which is what the foreigners living in a country are called) pretty much had the run of the place. This meant the school bus driver (who was a native) couldn't do shit to you, apart from quietly asking you to behave.

Being young-ish at the time (11, 12, you get the idea) we basically took this as a sign to run amok. So, every morning and afternoon, my friends and I would be sitting up the front (we rarely ventured down the back) having our Bus Wars. This basically entailed 2 pairs of people sitting on either side and constantly shooting those wadded up paper missiles at each other, or if we were out of missiles, just the rubber bands. If it weren't for my habit at the time of wearing sunglasses then I'd have probably lost my eye on two occasions and the paper missiles bounced off the lenses.

As I mentioned earlier, the older kids sat down the back, and we rarely ventured there for fear of their wrath, or being used for their amusement. I do remember though, this one girl, several years older than us, who seemed to have a problem with everyone and everything. Looking back now, I'm going to surmise that she was probably a closet lesbian, but I really have no idea. At any rate, we'd been engaging in our customary battles that afternoon, and my aim had been particularly deadly, when we all had the same idea.

"Psst, shoot Sara!" (I think that was her name, if it wasn't, that's what I'm going to use) was whispered to me as I was already taking aim at her exposed neck. As I said, my aim was particularly good that day, and the paper missile leapt forward from my hand, and flew true, to strike her with near maximum power on the side of her neck.

We all cheered. As we were laughing about our great victory and my blow for our cause (the Bus Wars) the bitch arose from her seat. Everyone knew who had fired the shot. She stalked to where I was sitting, laughing incredibly hard, and slapped me, hard as she could.

Unfortunately for her, all she did was slap my sunglasses, and dislodge them from their customary position, whereupon she returned to her seat, still feeling pain (and possibly humiliation) while I felt nothing but happiness, joy and laughter - that slap, while looking dramatic, hadn't hurt at all. Possibly all the happiness, joy and laughter had blocked it out, but you never know.

I've got a few other stories of Bus Wars that I might post later, if people so desire.

 

Jarinor, no wonder you're so god damned grumpy. I've been to Bahrain and Dubai, hottest shitholes on the planet. 110 degrees at midnight, close to 140 in the day, if it weren't for the english pubs I might have died.
How did you ever get used to it? Bus Wars was good BTW.

 

Darkwalker, by sheer coincidence, I lived in both Bahrain and Dubai. My family spent 5 years there, I was there for one full year before I went to 4 years of boarding school.

You're right, they are hot, but at least Bahrain has a dry heat. Still, the feeling of the heat hitting you as you step off the plane is a unique experience. Dubai is humid as hell, I didn't care much for it.

Edit - how did I get used to it? After a few months, you honestly don't notice it any more, except for the humidity that is. People actually run marathons and shit there, and it is doable. Just get used to the heat first before trying it. It's also a law there, every single house must have air-conditioning, to help cope with the heat.

 

Come on, tell us more bus stories, they're so funny. I'm like drugar, nothing interseting happens to me EVER.

 

Maybe that has something to do with your difficulty saying anything interesting, EA?[/b]