A Letter to the Early Morning Conversationalist

Dear fellow bus rider,

Don’t get me wrong. This judgment look of hate isn’t because I’m tired or hung over.

It’s because I hate you.

I understand that you may be the next greatest poet/musician/politician/hobo. Good for you.

But, I don’t know if anyone told you, it’s 7 in the morning. Sure, your exciting day full of happy-deep-feeling-emotional-awesomeness is just starting—but stop. Just stop. No. Sit down. Stop.

I don’t care if your professor is on crack and likes to tell stories about his trippy hippy days that, you’re pretty sure, are still going on. Believe it or not, I don’t care what your boyfriend’s baby momma thinks about rising gas prices. For that matter, I don’t care what you think about the presidential election, Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, the weather in Nepal, OR the latest soccer match.

Oh! And guess what? These things in my ears aren’t some strange fashion accessory. Oh, no, my friend. They’re headphones. The universal symbol for ‘if you talk to me, I will kick you’.

Watch your back, early morning conversationalist. Watch your back.

I’ve never kicked anybody before, but I’m ready to change that,

-A Bus Zombie