Tue. Jan 18th, 2022

Far be it for me to use this space to air my own personal grievances, to in essence betray the sacred oath that I took when I became Editor in Chief of this fine publication, but over the course of this academic year, I have noticed a trend so disturbing, so viciously hurtful, that I can no longer keep my tongue in check. No one ever seems to want to sit next to me on the bus.

That’s right. I can’t count the number of times I’ve made the journey from South Campus to North and back again with a big empty space sitting next to me. Honestly, it’s very depressing. Conan’s last “Tonight Show” depressing.

I’m not talking about an empty bus either. I’m talking standing room only outside of the seat next to me and wouldn’t you know it that people seem to prefer standing room! I know!

Now, I honestly can’t see what this strange aversion to being in my general proximity stems from. I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging here but I bath regularly. Not while I’m on the bus, mind you. If that was the case then I would understand why people wouldn’t want to sit next to me. I mean, how would I even get the tub on the bus to begin with?

Even better then the consistent bathing is the fact that I have no aggressive piercings or tattoos that I’m aware of and my teeth— while by no means perfect— are still in pretty good condition. On a scale of hockey player to teen idol, I would put my teeth somewhere around restaurant hostess. Or astronaut. Not sure why, but astronauts tend to have perfectly average teeth.

On top of my lack of foul odor, metal bars through my nose, facial tattoos and of course my teeth of a more then adequate status, I always make sure I move all the way to the end of the seat and that none of my belongings are in the way. Still, STILL people avoid me like I was Dan Carcillo at a Gaborik family reunion. I just don’t get it.

I’m a nice guy gosh darn it! If you plop down next to me, in all likely hood I won’t talk your ear off or attempt to sell you anything. Unless, that is, you want me to. If that’s what you want and doing so will get you sit next to me for the approximately hour long ride around campus, then I swear on my stuffed bear wearing a Flyers jersey’s life that not only will I talk your ear off, but I will attempt to sell you something. Anything.

I’ve just had a thought. What if someone out there is actually reading these nonsensical rants? What if these same people also happen to frequent the shuttle bus? What if they’re terrified that I’m some sort of psychopath whose cheese has already more then half slid off of his cracker and only requires but a little push to go into full scale lunacy?

I bet that’s the case! Those poor souls have read my weekly manifestos in “The Quad” and are concerned that this cheese-slipping-off-completely process will culminate while they are sitting next to me, forcing them to watch me melt down in a series of rants about Purell dispensers, incomplete fences and the occasional global pandemic.

If this is the case, I can assure you that my cheese is properly positioned on my mental cracker. Not quite in the middle, mind you but honestly no one’s is.

Well, I fear after all of that cheese gibberish just now, no one will even get on the same bus with me let alone the same seat. I think I’d better stop now before I say something REALLY crazy and somehow make things even worse.

Like the fact that, on average I change my socks about four times a day.


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