Some nights, about two or three during the work week, I take a bus ride home. The bus is often late, very rarely (never) early, but the drivers are ridiculously nice. Which makes it easier to put up with the lack of reliability. It's my fellow bus riders that make or break the bus experience. Yesterday evening, I took a later than usual bus, meaning, after 5:00 instead of before. I was one of the first people on the bus, scoring a prime seat (if there is such a thing) and making myself comfortable (relatively). I sat there, placing my headphones in my ears, looking in my bag for a book. The previous night I was forced to stand during the long bus ride, so I was grateful I would be able to read the book I'd been lugging around my bag for the past few days.
"Excuse me, pardon me," a large man with a large suitcase was making his way toward the back of the bus, where all the cool kids sit. I had a feeling this wouldn't be cool. There was an empty seat beside me, the middle seat - I attempted to rearrange my things to maximize the room I'd have, but upon lifting my purse, he sat in my middle seat. Literally - not figuratively, but I'm sure that too (can you figuratively sit on top of someone?) - on top of me. He shifted in his seat, whether that was a tactic to ensure the space he desired or needed, I'm not sure. His suitcase between his knees, his legs spread as men do when they sit. I cleared my throat. If I moved, I would surely be squashed. I had lost the use of an arm (he was leaning on it) and there was unnecessary pressure on my leg.
"I'm sorry, could you scoot over a bit? I'm feeling a bit squashed, and a bit claustrophobic."
He laughed. Excessively and loudly. The man standing in front of me looked at me in empathy. "Well, we're all a bit cozy here. I can't move. Anyway, you're small - you can handle it."
While I'm not short by any standards except a giant's, I'm also not tall. I'm entirely average height wise. So not small on that count. But I am slender. In airplane seats, where normal sized people with normal sized butts feel squeezed, I can curl up in a ball, with my butt and my feet in the same plane comfortably. In that regard, this stranger was correct. I am small. But since when is that an excuse to sit on top of someone and refuse to move?
I tried shifting my right arm to regain use, but upon moving, his elbow moved from my bicep to a less comfortable location (Ladies, you know what I'm talking about), and for a large man, leaning on the heavyset opposed to tall "large", his elbows were incredibly pointy. At first, I tried to sit as still as possible, barely breathe, barely move. This proved impossible when my leg started to itch. Right where the man was sitting on it. I squirmed, but whenever I would move in a manner that pulled my leg from under him, he seemed to expand. I spoke up again, but he couldn't hear me. Or pretended not to hear me. I tapped his shoulder, he removed his headphones and looked at me. I pointed to the seatback beside me, "I can't move over anymore. I can't breathe. You either need to let me stand, or scoot over."
He huffed. "We're all cozy. I can't move."
"I could take your suitcase over here, it'll give her a little more room if you can put your legs together." The twelve year old boy in me giggled at this nice man's offer. A high school teacher would tell people in her class to "put your knees together and think of Jesus!" when they would expand in the tiny desk chairs. It always elicited many a giggle - even among the 18 year old high school seniors. Maybe "even" wasn't necessary.
"I need my suitcase to stay here." That was dropped then. By this point, I was taking up about half of the small bus seats. He got off a stop before me, and didn't move when other, more spacious seats opened up - I still couldn't move until he did, otherwise I would have gotten up as soon as it was possible. I ran off the bus at my stop, gulping down big breaths of air.
I really think we need bus etiquette to be taught in schools.
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