Riding on a bus.

Public transit is great. It gets people here to there relatively fast, it's inexpensive, and it helps us ride that "green earth" wave. It's even greater in Michigan because it is few and far between and every bus ride is like a fairytale dream that has fallen into the sewer drain. I ride the bus to work because it gives me an extra half hour to wake up, or fall asleep and be embarrassingly nudged awake by some handsome bearded fellow. While I enjoy Grand Rapids' lovely bus system, I have witnessed a few things worth mentioning.

I have repeatedly slid off my seat because the sweater-vested driver only knew two speeds, stop and go. Thankfully knees make a great brace embedded into the seat in front.

I have stood hovered over a couple grabbing there seat back on a packed bus because the shorter you are, the fewer handles you have to grab onto when the driver needs to jump up and down on the break pedal. And yes, they were open-mouth making out and rubbing the back of each others heads as I was pinned against them.

I was actually on a bus when a girl hit it driving through an apartment complex parking lot. I was surprised because I was on a bus, a huge bus. These things are hard to miss with your eyes closed.

Lastly, the crowd of rowdy hockey fans and drunk bro-chachos is always a bus favorite. I applaud them for getting a safe ride home, but they have to remember no one else on the bus is at their level and no one thinks it's funny.

I'm sure I could write up some witty bus riding guidelines, but I've got another line of defense; the ipod. I put my cute pink headphones in, turn on some nerd podcast, and blend into the other awkward people with their headphones in and texting on their phone. This is the group of people that other people write articles about. Articles about how us weirdos are hiding behind social media, losing any people skills we still have, thus causing the decline of civilization all together.

This could all be combated by making the bus into a dance club. The loud music would drown out the yelling bros and make their fist pumping more appropriate. Us shy ones will have no need for our ipods and the stop and go driving style, it will force us all to shake our hips. The make-out couple wouldn't be out of place and the disco ball will add an additional safety feature for other drivers, like police lights.

It's the future.

11:11 11.11.11

In a few days 11:11 11.11.11 will be upon us and if you some how miss the millions of people holding their breath for a full minute on Friday in the AM version, relax because not only does everyone get to make the greatest, biggest, fluffiest, sparkliest, fingers crossed, wishiest wish they have ever made, it is going to happen TWICE! 11:11 PM 11.11.11.

I believe I first caught on to this mystical tradition a few years ago in the version of a facebook bumper sticker. Yea, remember those? I think they still exist and I'm sure the pre-teens rage for the newest ones. The sticker simply said "11:11 Make A Wish". After I understood that this cleaver little aliment of the 1s across the clock face some how carried magical wish-granting powers and saw numerous friends squirm into a pretzel attempting to squeeze their tiny little dream out through their skin, I realized this was stupid. So what, four number ones line up next to each other, or two elevens (whatever), for a whole minute, twice a day. My birthday only happens once a year and I dont see people getting all bug eyed or screaming "Quick. Quick, wish for something outrageous. Say, 'I-I want the Nile.' Wish for the Nile." and that happens only once a year!

I cleverly solved this dilemma years ago with a sassy rebuttal. I added a bumper sticker that said, "11:12 Damnit..." and I felt satisfied. Now that the most epic 11:11 wishing time is near, I will make one simple wish; that none of your wishes come true, because it is just a time on a clock. Come on! Instead, if you want your wish to come true, I say, you stick to the traditional forms of wish making; throw a penny in a fountain, blow on an eyelash, break a wishbone with a friend, or wish upon a star.

So, happy wishing! Just not on the previously mentioned times.