Ok so most of you know how much morning hates me right?
Despite the fact that I’m a very happy and positive person…if I don’t get my required cup of coffee and some quiet time alone when I first wake up, I’m liable to go medieval on any poor soul who even thinks of speaking to me.
My morning bus rides are usually at a point where I’ve had just enough coffee to last me until I get to work. It’s kind of like a VERY short antidote that works as long as no one does anything stupid, and I’m usually sitting there praying we get to my destination before I puke from motion sickness. Oh you don’t even understand the joys of that one.
Anyway, once at work, I immediately have another dose and quietly wait for ‘happy Kristy’ to appear and my brain to turn on.
Today for the first time since I started taking the bus back in October of last year, I actually enjoyed the ride.
The reason for this was my awesome bus driver, Mike.
Every single bus driver I’ve had since October either forgot their coffee or said hi with a very emotionless face. So fun.
Not Mike! This guy happily greeted people as they got on the bus, wished them a good day as they got off, and chatted with passengers.
At first I couldn’t understand what was happening since I wasn’t used to random acts of happy…especially first thing in the morning, but slowly my brain started to function (like a slow, crappy computer that takes 10 years to boot), and I realized that Mike was one of those rare people who actually likes their job and feels good when they make others happy.
I sat there smiling for most of the ride as I thought about how his good mood affected the passengers.
So many people don’t realize how such a little thing like saying good morning with a smile, wishing a total stranger a good day, or even a quiet smile as a person walks by you, can make all the difference in the world.
I got on the bus my usual quiet, please-don’t-talk-to-me-I’m-coffee-less self, but within ten minutes my whole outlook changed and I was instantly in a great mood…and it was all because of bus-driver-Mike of the 58 Dakota Express. One…single…person.
To all the Mike’s out there…thank you! You make coffee-less, nauseating mornings on zombie busses so much easier to bear.
As Mike went about greeting passengers and being his awesome self, I suddenly realized that my tailbone area was on fire.
I had put some kind of roll-on anti-inflamatory sh*t from hell on my lower back/tailbone area to stop my sciatic pain.
Normally when my chiropractor rolls it on, I’m wearing light clothing and just kinda walk out of there and go about with my life.
Well he neglected to mention that I might want to avoid using it while wearing hot snowpants and being squished like a sardine in my seat on a warm bus.
He was obviously trying to kill me.
Or burn my a*s off.
If he thought the pain of lower back-a*s flames would distract me from the piercing knife-like sciatic pain…he was absolutely correct.
I remember wondering what it would look like if I suddenly jumped up, ripped my snow pants from my body, and started hopping from foot to foot fanning my ass with my hand.
Of course, if anyone had mistakenly thought the reason for the ass-fanning was because I had farted, I’d have been utterly and completely mortified.
For this reason alone I remained seated on my fire-a*s praying someone would spill coffee on me so that I had a legit reason for ripping off my stupid sauna-pants in front of fifty sardine-squished strangers.
I managed to stay clothed long enough to exit the bus and say a cheery goodbye to Mike while pretending my eyes weren’t tearing up in agony.
Within three minutes I had made it to my office and stripped off the offensive clothing so that I could air out my bum which I was sure now had 3rd degree burns all over it.
I have decided that on Monday when I go to see my chiropractor again, I will sneak my bottle of Eau de Burn-your-a*s-off into the room and rub it all over him then throw him into a sauna.
I haven’t decided yet how I will manage to rub that crap on him without him noticing…or where I will find the sauna…but I’m sure I’ll figure that sh*t out on the drive over. Where there’s a will there’s a way. Also, I’m totally kidding cuz my chiropractor is awesome…go Derrick!)
As if that wasn’t enough, the morning decided to keep getting even more interesting which is usually kind of fun…when I’m not the victim.
Remember that co-worker of mine who is in that huge leg brace because she tried to tear her leg from her body while training for the snowbank jumping Olympics?
Well…the woman obviously wants to be maimed in some way, so this time she decided to purposely break her glasses on the bus, so had to wear contacts to work. She says it was an accident, but I think it was just because she felt it was her duty to give me fun and interesting things to write about.
So Incredi-girl decided to not just wear the contacts, but to completely shove it deep into her eyeball in order to make sure it didn’t get loose or something and try to fall out somewhere on her ride to work.
It’s the only logical explanation.
She did a fantastic job.
Even the gorgeous optometrist I forced her to go see was all, “Oooooh yeah….that’s ummm…that’s really in there…wtf did you do that for?”
The woman had somehow gotten the contact to go so far under her upper lid that getting it out was physically impossible without ramming what would no doubt feel like a scalding hot fire poker up in there to snag it and drag it back out into daylight.
Not wanting to blind her completely, cute optometrist guy told her to just leave it for the weekend so that her tears of agony would wash it out. If that didn’t do the trick, the infection she was sure to get would surely get rid of it.
So long story short, she comes into work and says it actually did come out over the weekend because of all the tearing up.
Her cornea is only slightly scratched.
She then proceeded to tell me she was pretty damn sure she re-tore the ligaments in her leg all over again.
Apparently, she was relaxing without her brace on to let her leg breathe a little, and her demon cat sauntered over, bared it’s knife-like claws from hell, and attempted to carve a gang symbol into her leg.
She yanked it back in pain (her leg, not the cat), screamed…and tore ligaments! AGAIN!
She woke up in the morning with the back of her leg blackish (internal bleeding) and crazy swelling.
Now, I’m not saying her husband should run out and grab himself an insurance policy on her or anything, buuuuuuut…