Dear 36 Bus Commuters

Dear 36 Bus Commuters,
I feel a little bad that I don’t actually know many of your names.
I mean, after all, I know just about everything else about you. I mean, you kinda can’t help but notice the people when you’re packed in with them. It was seriously tighter than a can of sardines. But rather than comment on the less than desirable conditions, this time seems like it’d be better spent helping out.
For instance, young woman to the left of me, I can tell you that you won’t find love reading self-help books, especially on public transit. And to the gentleman in front of me? Please, stop eating the peanuts. It’s messy and the secondhand smell of peanuts on your breath is vaguely nauseating.
I know it’s not much to go on, but I just figured, we’re all stuck on here together, right?
Why not try to make it a little more pleasant? For me at least.


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