If Donald Trump rode the Megabus.

An internal monologue of America’s most beloved white supremacist


The Donald:

First and foremost, you’ve got the black driver. It could be a woman and it could be a man. Still, the driver will always be black. In the rare occasion you get a white driver, he or she will always identify more with the black culture than the white.
The black driver is slow, witty, and ignorant. He or she never is in a good mood except for select points of the trip like when he/she talks to another black person or when that person points out something he or she finds hilarious that happens to be really not hilarious to any other person on the bus.
The black driver will either play a bill of Tyler Perry movies or will blast rap and R&B music throughout the bus speakers. He or she could give a fuck if you don’t care for those movies or that kind of music.
After all, he or she is black. Black people simply don’t care. I mean, have you actually seen Baltimore? I take it you watch The Wire. Great show.
Next, you’ll find the signature foreigner. Always speaking some sort of language you think you may have heard, but when you listen for key cognates, you find none. This foreigner is frighteningly quiet until he gets a very loud phone call two to three times throughout the bus ride. So rude.
And his ring tone! It’s always on high. It’s always in the style of an old rotary telephone ring, remember those? The guy will talk to what appears to be some sort of colleague or partner. Then he’ll seem upset, but will end the conversation cordially by saying ‘Thank you thank you, yes, oh, very much. Ok thank you. Yes. Thank you. Bye bye now.’
The foreigner is not a force to be reckoned with and God forbid you sit next to him. You might piss your pants from the sheer volume of his ringtone.
The trashy women — there’s no other way to describe them — are always a plenty on the Megabus. They make sure to dress comfortably. Too comfortably. I guess sitting down for six hours can be so terribly straining for a woman accustomed to being on her knees. I’m not talking about the beautiful women you and I encounter. These are the piles of garbage I’m referring to. Sweat pants and baggy T-shirts with heather gray sweatbands and fat binding underwear that make them look like a poorly constructed sausage casing. I’ll do away with them Day One.
(Did I mention she always makes plenty of phone calls to her girlfriends and manages to speak as loudly as possible about her crazy party stories that really aren’t stories)
I know when a beautiful woman rides the Megabus because she always has something to read. Her favorite: Cosmo (third to Art of the Deal, which I parish to say is only second to the Bible). But Cosmo is the woman’s Bible, so it’s really whatever tickles her pink).
Oh great. Gladys Presley just greeted her quorum of vacant seats in the front of the bus where the rest of the idle young things now are scattering like cockroaches. They must’ve caught wind of the sheer volume of grocery bags violently teetering against her wrists as she staked out her domain in the front three rows.
Wowza. So, even though there are a million people still left to get on the bus with hardly any seats left, she puts her bag and pillow (always a pillow), on the seat by the window and sits her fat ass on the outside seat as if to say ‘there is someone sitting beside me and fuck off if you try to climb over me.
Needless to say, she always gets to pick her own seat[s] (and presumably zip code, who knows).
Sometimes if you’re unlucky, you’ll have the Jewish American Princess that sees her friend, Sid, on the bus and acts really surprised. ‘Omg! Sid?’! How are you? I haven’t talked to you in like, ever!’ They always talk the whole time and you wonder how two people have so much to talk about when they’re mere acquaintences. I would never feel confident or caring enough to put up with that, especially if I were Commander in Chief.
Then there is the creepy toothless man that gets on the bus for free because he’s a loser. He talks to the bus driver before the ride and somehow gets on without an argument. You don’t really no why he is going to Cincinnati or Walla Walla, but he is. He takes the very back seat and no one dares sit by him because he’s creepy and more depressed than an SRO mattress in the Tenderloin. Real creep, this guy. Although he has no money for a Megabus ticket, he always has money to buy a huge meal that he takes with him on the bus.
Let’s see. The cuddly, liberal couple is one of my least favorites. One member of the pair is always significantly less attractive than the other. The couple never has much personality and they always seem to appreciate each other less than the frozen waffles they eat every morning. They never have much to talk about for some reason and they’re always magnificently bored.
The boy always shoots his hand over at random points to grope this beautiful young lady. I’m not saying that’s the problem. It’s that he then goes back to texting his buddies. What’s wrong with our boys when they can’t advance on their women in public places without losing attention. We need to stop medicating our kids.
I did notice, this is interesting. Whenever the couple does have something to say to one another they always lower their voices as if they have some sort of secret to share or if they’re planning to leave a barbecue early and are trying to not be rude to the host.
I hate couples like that. They never laugh.
Then there’s the studious cross country runner that ranges from 20–29 years of age. Hes always got some straining book to read that would make a truck driver car sick. They always have short hair and always look kind of constipated. When they’re not reading, they’re typing on their laptops or writing on their pads of paper. Probably studying. No one looks so serious as Megabus studiers.
They study and study and study.
You fall asleep for like two hours and you wake up with your head turned toward their direction and, guess what, they’re still studying. And you know they haven’t taken a break because you can feel it. You can tell. You can see the steady study-stream of their demeanor and it makes you want to snatch their books and notepads out of their veiny hands and chuck it out the window and say, ‘what are you gonna do now ass hole?’
But they’d probably have some sort of other studying literally up their sleeve. It never ends. On occasion they take a thirty second look out the window to study the trees and chew on their gum.
Old women on the Megabus are always really weird. I guess because they don’t have cars. I would be pretty weird if I were fifty eight and still had yet to buy myself a car that could get me more than a few miles to the nearest grocery store. They always subject you to really awkward small talk and because they’re old, you nod in doleful obedience.
But man do they say some truly stupid shit.
You really don’t care about things they interject like “I’m headed to the bathroom. Hope I don’t lock myself in there!” or “Is this the line to St. Louis?” “No.” “well that bus is late then. Can you believe this service?” You really don’t want to sit by those women. It’s sure to end up in fruitless painful conversation for six hours in which you end up telling them embarrassing life stories just to ease both your troubles for a little bit.
The pigpen liberal yuppie is usually on the Megabus when you’re riding to New England. He’s got his tight plaid long sleeve collared shirt and tight jeans and Chucks and black square rimmed glasses and a messenger bag. He’s always looking really upset about something and although he acts like he’s got somewhere really important to go, you know for a fact hes visitíng his loving family and younger sister. I really cant stand these indy yuppies. They really upset me.
Good news…the cross country runner is still studying.
It’s always interesting to make stops with the Megabus crew for me because you see how people realy eat on the road when they’re with their families or whatever. Growing up, when my family stopped at a gas station, which was only once, all we were entitled to were 3rd rate TrailMix bags or Diet Rite in a can. These people eat fried chicken, McDonalds, and Subway sandwiches too big to help anyone lose weight. The bus always smells like lettuce after the pit stop. I just get a protein bar and a Diet Pepsi. Because my life is that
But then again, I’m reminded that I will be the next Commander-in-Chief. That is if my layover in Philly chooses to arrive on time and not, say, stall out on the Turnpike like those Chinese ones.