The elderly are practically sacred to me. Not just because I hope to be one someday, and not just because they’ve lived through all the awful crap that inevitably comes with decades of life, but because the world is moving at such a crazy pace that even I have a hard time keeping up, and these people are expected to keep up as their ability to do so slips away. It’s a lonely, alienating experience that makes you feel like you no longer know or belong in the world in which you live.
Um, that’s just dust in my eye.
Anyway, lord have mercy on you if I see you remain seated when an elderly person gets on the bus and starts looking around for a place to sit.
I swear, if it takes them more than 5 seconds of holding on to that dirty bar and looking around uncomfortably before you finally peel your ass from the seat and offer them a place, I will make your skull burn with my fiery glare.
But if you just let them keep standing like that while you play your Flappy Angry Pigeon game, your head bowed over the screen like you’re praying to the gods of mobile gaming to help you beat your high score, I WILL SMITE YOU WHERE YOU SIT!
It’s becoming more and more common (in my observations) to see young men and women remain seated comfortably while elderly people get on the bus and shuffle uncertainly, look at the sign that says “These seats must be vacated for elderly passengers,” and continue trying to hold on with the swaying, moving bus.
Youth isn’t wasted on the young, it’s wasted on douchebags like this who have no respect for anyone else.
For the record, I don’t care if I’m seated at a window seat in the middle of the bus, I will wave down an elderly person and offer my seat, shoving past everyone with a very meaningful air if they accept my seat. (I’d like to take this moment to thank my parents for teaching me to respect my elders. Hi, mom! Hi, dad!)
I hate it so much, I wrote this poem.
I get that it’s comfy to sit on the bus,
And you want avoid all possible fuss,
You’re tired, you’ve been shopping and walking around,
Or working all day at your desk downtown,
But if I see you sitting while an old woman stands,
I’ll have to take matters into my hands.
I’ll grab that damn iPhone out of your grip,
And stomp on it til I crush every last chip,
Then while you’re shocked I’ll grab your right ear,
And pull hard until I think you can hear,
“THERE’S A PERSON STANDING WHO NEEDS A SEAT,”
I’ll yank your ear til my point’s complete,
And when you move, of my own accord,
I’ll flash a sweet smile, the balance restored.
Tell me what ails you, friends. I might write a poem about it.
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