A look at the interesting, sometimes aggravating world of public transportation etiquette

For some people, traffic congestion is the main downside of commuting to school.

For me, it’s people congestion.

When you leave for the bus stop in the morning, it’s obvious that your first priority is reaching your destination.

What isn’t certain is that there will be a spot for you on the bus. You may need to make your own.

If you ask me, it’s acceptable to be a bit pushy or to invade a stranger’s personal space when it comes to getting yourself on the bus. The reason this is OK is because you are aware of your actions and you have a fair reason—often enough, there’s room for you to stand at the end of the bus, but people are in the way. 

I encounter a majority of these problematic passengers on OC Transpo’s route 95, which I take twice a day during the week in order to make my way to and from the college. Local buses aren’t free of those issues, but they’re a little more reasonable than the mainstream routes.

I’ve run into so many situations that I’m now able to classify them—along with the people causing them—into three primary categories. It’s like stereotyping for passengers.

First, I’m at the stop and the bus arrives. As I look through the window, I can see a few empty seats near the back, yet I can’t get there because candidate number one is standing in the way. Let’s call him Alfred.

He’s not even preoccupied. He’s blatantly standing in the way of the lineup of people who are trying to get to those seats, completely zoned out. Now, don’t get me wrong, you’re allowed to zone out. Just please, be sure to get out of the way. Come on.

Next, we have candidate number two. Let’s call her Sarah. I’ve finally made my way to the back by now, and I’ve even found a spot to sit, but Sarah has so many bags and accessories that most of the seat is covered.

She has a backpack, a purse, a gym bag, some books and an umbrella. This candidate is usually aware that she’s taking up too much space, and she feels really bad about it, but she’s still there.

Please, Sarah, buy yourself a car, get a locker, or find an alternative that works for you—anything but the bus.

Lastly, we have Doug, our final candidate.

I’ve somehow found two seats to myself and I’m ecstatic because I have the window seat. It gives me a bit of privacy, I can read my book and I can dictate how much space I want to take—that’s until some guy named Doug gets on at the downtown stop.

It’s quite apparent that this individual doesn’t have any earphones and doesn’t care to get himself a new pair, because he’s playing loud, mainstream music from his cellphone’s speaker, which is conveniently placed in his pocket.

Doug, either go to Future Shop and get some buds or make your way to a bar. We’re on the bus here; normal people don’t play music out loud.

Overall, these three candidates make for a scary combination. But what I fear the most is that they’re unavoidable. All you can do is cross your fingers and hope you don’t run into them, or ready yourself so you aren’t bothered.

Bus etiquette is clearly not a widespread phenomenon—John, Sarah and Doug are living proof.