Miss Manner's Guide to Tranist Chapter 3

A letter to the beer drinking troglodyte on the 5:35 pm skytrain on September 26, 2007. (The teenage girls got away with being obnoxious this time because this guy was SIMPLY UNBELIEVABLE! But be warned girls-I am on this train for 3 more weeks and I will be watching you)
Dear sir,

I appreciate that the New Westminster Skytrain station is connected to a bar called Scruffy McGuire's (no, I am not making this up. I wish I was). I appreciate that sometimes after a hard day of...well...whatever it is you do, you sometimes need a beer to wash the cares away. I will be honest with you sir. As of late, as the end of my hated job approaches and my employers mutate further into assholeness, I have been known to have a snort of rum with my diet coke. I am not above that in the slightest. Sometimes it just needs to be done.

I do, however, understand that there are certain things that are not done in public due to COMMON DECENCY. Like belching SO LOUDLY that your fellow commuters think there is an earthquake or the construction site next door is collapsing.

Note: At this point my husband is yelling and pointing at the computer because I once inadvertently burped loudly when we were in a store and blamed him. It only happened once though. And it was in Gibson's Landing, home of the Beachcombers so how bad could it be. And it wasn't THAT loud. But I digress.

Now sir, if you ARE going to belch that loudly, you must do two things:

1. Say excuse me FOR GOD'S SAKE! Were you born in a BARN?
2. When a blonde girl wearing a FIERCE white leather jacket with great new hair (I got a new haircut that I LOVE LOVE LOVE! Victor-you are a genius) looks your way inquisitively, DON'T yell at her and say "What the fuck are YOU looking at bitch". You KNOW what she is looking at. SHE IS LOOKING AT YOUR UGLY BELCHING FACE!!!!

Sorry about that...that was a bit violent.

Now sir, one belch could be almost forgivable. Even if it was the loudest thing ever. In the history of belching. And believe me, I have heard some loud ones. I play football. I know of what I speak.

However, if you follow that belch up with one that is EVEN LOUDER and LONGER than EVER THOUGHT POSSIBLE, you MUST expect a reaction from your fellow commuters.

Like the little old lady that shrieked and ran toward me. In a panic. I don't know what she thought I was going to do to protect her from the angry gas man, but I was ready.

And if you RESPOND to that reaction by CHASING HER and belching AGAIN, you must expect people to respond negatively. Like moving away from you rapidly and contacting the skytrain police. (Who of course never got there because they were rousting tourists who didn't pay enough train fare. Because cheap tourists are a scourge...as opposed to angry gassy psychopaths. Come on people...get your priorities straight.)

AND THEN when the train arrives, and you BELCH on to your train car of choice, do not be surprised when your fellow commuters flee out of the train.

AND FINALLY...please do not be encouraged by the reaction you got from the one, fellow beer drinking commuter on your train. Which was...of course...

"Dude! That was AWESOME!"

Sigh...

Signed,

Blonde in fierce white leather jacket on behalf of...well...the world

There is a part of me that is going to miss these daily interactions with my fellow commuters as I will be working near Granville Island as opposed to near the dead pigeon on the corner (I am not making this up-a pigeon expired as I was walking by it a few weeks ago. It fell over and blood oozed out of its head. I cannot get out of here fast enough).

The part of me that will miss these interactions is very small however. Very very small.

RIP pigeon-we hardly knew you.