Here in Los Angeles, where driving one’s own passenger car to get around town is such a rewarded and infrastructural mode of traveling, I suspect that many people who consciously choose not to take public transportation do so because public transportation in this town is used mostly by indigent, dumb, low-class people who display pathetic displays of personal hygiene. In other words, the MTA train and municipal buses are kinda…gross. The seat you’re sitting in might have previously housed the ass of a smelly and oozing brown person with abdominal gas from last night’s greasy dinner. Or, having once witnessed such a thing myself, by a pimply, oily-haired 20-something virgin with a thing for digging boogers from his nose and grinding them into the cheap bus-seat fabric. Public transportation is not for the faint of heart in Los Angeles, and most of the glittery people in Tinseltown tend to be very faint of heart, meaning that the only “respectable” people (myself included) who electively take public transportation are lunatics, masochists or otherwise seriously deranged, ie, left-wingers seeking to minimize their carbon footprint.
I’m respectable insofar as I have a valid California driver’s license, I’m not on parole or probation, and I receive absolutely no government assistance. I currently do not suffer from disabling neurological afflictions which necessitate the use of wheelchair, cane or walker, or a motorized cart that fat-asses with tree trunk legs and edema use to clog up grocery aisles. In other words, I own a car and I work quite a few miles from home, more than is “convenient” in the realm of public transportation, L.A.-style. So I am the epitome of a Southern Californian. But despite this, I choose to take public transportation about 3 or 4 days each week. It is daunting. I tolerate every noxious facet of sharing the train with disgusting people, including, but not limited to, homeless pungent creatures, leering pedophile homos, leering psychopathic homos, deranged Southeast Asian seniors with impatience spearing you through their exasperated expressions.
But the hardest for me to tolerate and which tests my mass commute persistence: assholes.
Literally, assholes. I’m not talking about assholes as we think of them in the popular idiom: distasteful and disagreeable people with no common courtesy. Not those assholes.
I’m talking real assholes. Anuses. This is the one thing that I must endure on trains which would drive me back to my car keys.
A real one of these damn smelly, outbound monstrosities which we all have (ostensibly), housed next to our opinions.
For instance, tonight. The evening train home was very crowded but luckily, since I catch the train when it’s empty at the start of the route, I’m fortunate enough to get a seat almost every time. By the 2nd or 3rd stop downstream, however, the car was fully packed and people began huddling into the aisles. I had an aisle seat and in such unfortunate circumstance, many times I find that the person who is standing near me as he clings to the rails for stability, decides to plant his hairy ass immediately in my face. Only inches of steamy, stagnant air separates my face from his trousered asshole.
This is the most annoying, reprehensible situation. Repulsive. I find no adventure, no appeal, in planting my face in the ass of strangers (though, I hear, that is a thing for many people…not this one, sorry). Tonight’s ass belonged to some hefty Mexican dude with a backpack and a lunch bag. He was a hot mess of personal travel clutter and his baggy jeans contained a big fat ass that was literally no more than 5 inches from my face. One small gaseous eruption and I would have front row seats to his shit-smell death-cloud. I was disgusted. And he stood there for most of the train ride. Sometimes it’s a woman I find in this position, but that makes it no more tolerable. I don’t care if it’s a hot young chick. I don’t want stranger’s asses lingering anywhere near my face, my nose, my mouth. I don’t need that. I don’t need this hideous fecal portal quivering anywhere in the vicinity of my face.