An Open Letter To The Guy Who Always Sits Next To Me On The 37

Dear Man With a Creepy Mustache,

I have no problem sitting next to people on the bus who I don't know. When I first started dating my girlfriend, Drew, I also started catching the number 37 Metro, and for the most part it has been a pleasent ride. There is the lady who keeps her dog in a purse, often it is wearing an adorable sweater. There is the cute punk rock girl, with her wry smile and constant look of boredome. And then, there is you.

Every time Drew gets off the 37 at 2nd and Union you move from where ever you sit on the bus, which lately has been a seat or two behind me, to right next to me. Not only do you sit next to me, but you scoot in and lean on me. Sometimes I push back with my legs, the international sign for "you're sitting too close to me on the bus."

When the bus comes to your stop on 1st avenue you look for me. How can I tell you might ask? I believe it is the smile that forms under your serial killer mustache when we make eye contact.

You lurk there on the bus, waiting for Drew to leave, and then you quickly slide in. This must stop immediatly.

I have tried many tactics to stop these offences: eating food that makes me gassy, but you just sit through the stench. Staring at you has not worked either. You look perfectly forward and ignore me even when I sing along to my Diskman. But you still lean. And, finally, when I give up and look away you turn and stare at me.

When I try to get off the bus at 4th and Union you purposely position yourself to block my way out of the seat. No amount of politeness or "excuse mes" have done anything to sway you from your perverse attempts.

I hate you and your damn creepy mustache. I hate the way you lean on me and the way you nod to me as I leave the bus cussing you. I hate your serial killer eyes and your child molester smile. And, I hate the fact that Drew calls you my "Bus Boyfriend."

If these attacks on my person do not cease I will be forced to make a pre-emptive strike with my weapons of mass destruction.

Sincerely,
Seattle Metro Patron Extrodonaire, Ian.