On the 33

We all know or have seen this type of person. He wakes up in the morning and has a cigarette before even getting out of bed. On the way to the bathroom she has another cigarette before peeing. He smokes a cig in the shower. She smokes while doing her hair. He smokes while eating cereal. She smokes while drinking orange juice. By the time he or she gets on the bus, they’ve had three thousand morning cigarettes. The stench of smoke actually flakes off these people. Well this morning, she got on the bus. A junkie from the rehab place (no judgments—seriously.) She proceeded to shut all the windows as she ambled to the back to stake her seat claim. She approached the four seat area I was in and stopped to shut my window. Her smoke detritus crumbled onto my shoes. “Stop.” She looked at me with a don’t-talk-to-me glare. “Don’t shut that window,” I said. “I’m cold.” I added “and you stink.” She went to close the window. “Stop.” She glared again at me. “Go sit in the front where you already shut the windows.” “Don’t tell me where to sit.” “Don’t shut the window.” These bus battles are so silly. “Don’t tell me what to do.” “If I were to tell you what to do, I say ‘jump off a bridge.’ Just don’t shut the window.” She acquiesced. I’m an asshole before I have any caffeine in the morning.