Meaty in the Morning

I'll probably go to hell for this one.

I'll take a chance.

I race out my front door this morning, in heels and the 87% humidity, to board the 145 bus downtown. I stroll to the back of the bus (it was a single, not an accordian bus, so seats were premium) and I find a seat at the back. On the back row, in the center. Lots of leg swinging room, if a gal was keen to do that. I was just happy to sit my heeled feet and read my book in peace.

For you non-Chicago readers, this bus style has 5 seats across the back. Facing forward. The seats are those lovely molded plastic ones that show you where to put your tush. Mine fits nicely. (It won't for much longer at the rate I'm eating, but for now, I fit.)

There was a rather large woman (ok, she was huge) sitting to the left, in the seat by the window nearest the lake. In contrast, there was a rather thin man (ok, he's never had a late night pizza in his life) sitting to the right, in the seat by the window nearest the buildings.

I wisely choose the middle seat, leaving an open seat on either side of me, for the fool that wants to be squashed. To my left, where the large lady sits, I note that she's spilling out of her molded plastic seat into about 1/3 of the next seat over. Pity the fool that chooses that one.

The lean man is flanked by not only the seat to my right, but God blessedly, about 1/3 of HIS seat is blank due to his sore lack of backside.

Lo and behold (and how often do you get to say Lo about anything?), the bus fills up and my bookend seats, closest to my elbows, begin to get eyed by the early morning, already weary, needing their coffee, travelers.

Then I spot her. The largest woman I've seen outside of a 20/20 special in quite some time. And, yes, she's making her way towards my row.

She chooses, NOT wisely, the seat to my left. To refresh, that is the seat that is already 1/3 filled by some kind lady's thigh. And, she's down. Squeezes (how?) into that spot, pushing me literally up and over the molded plastic ridge into the empty seat to my right. I gently move over.

I had no choice.

As if that wasn't bad enough...then I spot her friend. She is even bigger. I kid you not.

She chooses, of course, the seat to my right. Even with the 1/3 loaner seat from Thin Guy, she is spilling out like the not-so-hot pale-skinned muffin tops over jeans.

Now I am literally squished, squeezed, smashed between two thighs of the largest diameter that I've seen. It is 87% humidity today, please remember. I can barely see out the windows past all of this weight.

I rise up, by no doing of my own, into the sky...literally smooshed upwards to accomodate their extra baggage.

I ride for 28 minutes, the entire way to my office, perched atop their thighs. Balanced, actually. It took everything in my power not to laugh. Or cry.

All I know is that I was sweaty. And I don't sweat.

I had to peel myself out. It was painful. I think I have bruises, but that isn't saying much. I bruise like a peach.

Did I mention that they were both drinking supersized drinks - you know the ones - the kind that says BIG GULP on the side, but are filled with caramel-high-fat-full-whip-with-an extra shot of-sugary-glaze-on-top-machiatos? Yes. Both of them.

Even the cups were sweating.

Side note: I heard recently that Americans drink 60% of their calories each day. I think between the two of them they have me covered until January.

I did survive, bruises and all. I blamed the humidity on the sweat marks on my skirt.

I know. I'll have a CTA pass for a one-way bus pass to hell, please. Thank you.