Two Tickets to Ride #7

Two tickets to ride
I ride the Mets (Metropolitan Evansville Transit System) to and from school every day. In one sentence it does not sound that bad but as I am going to go into this it is going to start to seem more and more unappealing. It is not that it is that bad it is just more of a nuisance that anything. I prey for the day to come when I can stop standing on the street coroner like the captain Morgan guy, well more like the Quaker Oats guy, silently staring down the block hoping that I have not missed the bus yet.
On Monday I have my Mesoamerican Art History class at eleven and my Math class at noon and then I am done for the day but it takes me six and a half hours to go to school for less then two hours. My day starts at eight when my alarm clock goes off. I get up yawning, stretching, and searching for the correct profanity then I go into the kitchen and fill my espresso pot. I have grown accustom my coffee pot it is stainless steel, does not use filters, and makes a cup of mean, but it only makes two cups. Most mornings I have two pots. While I am waiting, I tune the television to CNN and let my cat out.
After I cook breakfast for myself and do some more decompressing I leave my house for an eight-block walk to the downtown Mets terminal. There I wait another few minutes and smoke. The buses leave at fifteen till and fifteen after, I have been almost ran-over by a bus that I was only thirty seconds for. It takes two transfers and over an hour to get to school and by then I have been awake for three hours.
On the bus you run into all kinds of people all with their own story to tell. There are smelly ones, hairy ones, ones that are more smelly then hairy. The worst kinds of bus people are the talkers, not just the regular type, but the ones that bring shitty conversation with them. There is nothing worse than having to listen to someone babble on about how they can't this and don't that and just go on about nothing for a half hour. Some of them talk to the drivers incessantly and they do it every day so you can spot them out before they even get on the bus and of course their are the people that when you talk to them they do not ever drop the conversation, the non-droppers, drop it already.
Sometimes I end up getting pissed off of the bus. Most of the time it is just because it's too much wasted time. There has been a few time that some middle-aged person and there elderly parent/parents have gotten on the bus and for the whole ride they yell at their them, argue and demean them. One time this lady kept saying that he father had Alzheimer's only because they were fighting about money. You could see it in the old mans eyes that he was fine and tell it pissed him off, although it seemed like he had heard it all before. He ended up clamming up but to me it seemed that he had became embarrassed over the public incident rather then knowing he was wrong or suffering from some Alzheimer's attack.