Commuting Suicide
Killing myself slowly, day after day
Volume VII: "Don't Engage"
Under any circumstances, initiating a conversation on the bus is a terrible idea. Even if it starts strong and interesting, nobody can keep that up at 7:30am in commuter traffic. The conversation will turn stale and awkward, as will every future greeting with your new commuter friend. You might have to move.
Despite my strong views on the subject, I gaffed this morning. After taking my seat, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a dog biscuit. Odd. Had our roles been reversed, my biscuit-bringing seatmate would have surely been the subject of the next Commuting Suicide. On the off chance this fellow is also writing a semi-regular feature on his rush-hour adventures, I slipped into damage control.
Me: That's weird. [Jokingly offering the treat to my fellow passenger] Snack?
Him: No.
Me: [Even if he doesn't write a semi-regular feature on his rush-hour adventures, I'm now sure he'll be starting one today.] Kidding, of course. We just got a dog.
Him: That's nice. [Pauses, Googling 'dogs' in his head for a relevant conversational nugget.] I was just reading about people in this area getting dogs from Amish puppy mills in Pennsylvania.
Me: Huh. Well, don't worry. She didn't come from an Amish puppy mill. Hey, I wonder how the Amish puppy mill owners advertise.
Him: They're all over the internet.
Me: Really? That's strange. Amish people aren't allowed to use the internet.
Him: They're not allowed to over-breed dogs in harmful environments, either.
Me: Yeah, I guess if you're going to break one rule, the cat's out of the bag.
Him: I don't follow.
[What did follow was 40 minutes of awkward silence. Can't wait for tomorrow!]
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