“Buses are like a box of chocolate. You never know what you’re gonna get.” – Forrest Gump, or someone like that…

All my life I have taken the bus. Before I went to school, I took the bus with my parents from the Newton Campus to Shea Stadium for Boston College football games. I went to school, and every year, I took the bus. I even took the bus senior year when I had no car and no ride. (Yes,  I was mortified.) Now that I am at college, I take the bus to get around. I take it on campus, to CVS, to the mall, to go home, to go anywhere.

After all this bus riding, I have learned that a bus is, in fact, a box of chocolates. No two buses are ever alike. I have had phenomenal bus rides, complete with cool neighbors, no car sickness, and a great playlist. But I have also had God awful bus rides. ones that make you want to attack the driver, shank your neighbor, and drown yourself in the lavatory toilet at the back.

There are a lot of factors that can make or break a bus. For example, showing up early can be beneficial. I’ve been the first one in line before, so therefore, I got my pick of every seat on the bus. However, sometimes it is nice to be in the middle of the line. You get to pick your bus buddy, as opposed to the other way around. This can ensure that you don’t end up next to someone with body odor or listens to their music just a little too loudly. Usually, in either scenario, the bus ride will be rather bearable.

But if you miss the bus, like I did this weekend on an impromptu jaunt north, you should just consider yourself destined for a crappy ride.

For whatever reason, I found myself in the company of people who either A) had never ridden a bus before or B) were just plain inconsiderate. They didn’t make mistakes by accident. These people were in blatant violation of the Laws of Travel.

Here are some of the atrocities I witnessed in my weekend travels.

Bitching about the process. In Philadelphia, those headed toward New York had to go through a minor security check. They asked us if we had any drugs, alcohol, weapons, cell phone tasers, whatever. These two women in line with me gave the guard so much lip. It was unnecessary and totally against the rules. Rule #1: No complaining about anything. If you acknowledge something as a problem, it becomes a problem. You don’t want other people to get in a bad mood because you’re in a bad mood. But when you think about it, is it really that bad? It took one minute of your time, and for crying out loud, we were sitting around on benches in the middle of the night anyway. It did more good than harm, so just shut your pie hole and relax.

These women went on to also Complain about the driver. There is nothing that can be done about this one. (Actually, there is one thing you can do: drive your own car!) I know that we almost crashed into Jersey barriers, and that the bus practically flipped over when we sped through the hairpin turns before the Lincoln Tunnel. But gossiping about it and saying ‘Oh lord!’ loudly for the bus to hear, well, that accomplishes nothing.

Don’t disrespect the art of packing. While I am aware of the difficulties of packing reasonably (even I just want to throw it all in,) as well as the difficulties of sleep (my habits borderline nocturnal,) you need to follow Rule #2: Be smart. This being said, don’t carry more than two bags and don’t sleep outside. I watched this girl break a lot of rules at once. Not only did she over pack, complete with an animal print rolling suitcase, with the expansion zipper, a backpack whose seams looked like they wanted to scream out ‘TAKE SOME SHIT OUT OF HERE!’, and a sad purse, who hung limp and broken from the crook of her arm; but she also decided to throw it all on the ground and sleep on it. Luggage aside, she should’ve known Rule #37: Never sleep in Port Authority. But she had the gall to sleep on the ground, on top of her luggage! She made some novice mistakes, but God did she make me mad. Learn how to pack properly. There is no way she could’ve needed all that shit. There is no way any self-respecting person would have slept on that filthy tiled floor like a bum from the streets of New York! Were you tired from lugging all that shit around? I bet you were!

What if your mother was riding the bus with you? You would probably follow the standard conventions of life. Which is to say that you don’t make out on the bus. It is such an easy rule to follow. But the preppy couple in front of me couldn’t resist. It was as if he was leaving with the army tomorrow and they just had to get in every last passionate moment together. This violates Rule #3: Keep your shit together. I really didn’t want to watch these two make out, or snuggle, or share sweet-nothings. I’m sure that I was not the only one. I don’t feel the need to elaborate on this one… If you wouldn’t do it with Mom around, then don’t do it on a bus. (And don’t try to tell me you’ve made out in front of your mom. That’s bogus.)

Music related crimes. There are several ways to go wrong with this one. This weekend, I witnessed them all. There is always the classic ‘I listen to my music so loud that my earbuds have microexplosions every beat that cause you to hear the music too’ debacle. I listened to one woman’s second rate rap music for ninety minutes. I wasn’t sure if the old ladies nearby noticed, but I know it drove me crazy. This was a violation of Rule #7: Be aware of your surroundings. This doesn’t happen quite as often as one would think, but today was a terrible case- the lady in front of me was rocking the Dr. Dre headphones… and singing out loud. She sang well, but she also sang very LOUDLY. Although she sat in the front seat, I am sure the entire bus could hear her.  An unusual first happened today: some schmuck tested out all the ringtones on their phone, trying to pick a new one. The bus was silent aside from the murmur of wind and the buses engine. But then, the phone starts singing… and after one song, it sings another, and another. At that point, I was ready to turn around, stand up and shout “HEY FUCKER KNOCK IT OFF” in my big scary voice. I didn’t, but I am sure you can imagine me actually doing this. This brings me to another set of crimes:

Phone related crimes. These crimes are the equivalent of rape and murder in the travel world. In fact, Peter Pan bus lines outright banned cell phone use on the bus because it is so disruptive. It’s just as awful as farting in an elevator. Do not talk on your phone on the bus. I repeat DO NOT TALK ON YOUR PHONE ON THE BUS. If you don’t believe me, it’s Rule #10: Don’t talk on your phone on a bus. Today, I on my four hour leg from Boston to New York, I sat next to the world’s worst bus buddy. Not only did this bitch schmuck look at me through her mascara crusted eyes as if I were swine, but for at least three of those four and a half hours, she talked on the phone. (I should have known it would be bad from the moment I asked if I could sit next to her.) She tried to be quiet, I’ll give her that. But after twenty minutes of hearing her repeat “Mhmm, mhmm” over and OVER, I wanted to smash her Blackberry against the ground and cripple her fingers in an unbelievably vile and painful way. I debated telling her how much I hated her for being “that guy” when the ride was over, but I kept my mouth shut.

The most important rule of all: Rule #100: Roll with it. Let people do what they do. Accept things for what they are. People break the travel laws, just like people break the real laws. Maybe I was destined for a less-than-awesome weekend full of bus rides, but maybe I had nothing to do with it. There were times that I wanted to hurt myself (okay, mostly others,) but sometimes it is just better to let off some steam by abusing the courtesy wifi. After all, if you can’t verbally harass them, then you might as well get even by using all the bandwidth.