Dancing for joy

So I am riding the bus and we get to a stop where drivers change for shifts. The is a normal thing so no one is getting angry about the delay. No one, that is, with the exception of myself. Why am I angry about it? Glad you asked. I am sitting in the very first seat, it is cold and snowing, and the door is open. Nothing makes you regret life choices more than underdressing during a Winter storm. The truly sad thing about this is that this was supposed to be the first day of Spring (in Chicago which means diddly squat). So the bus driver finally closes the door and this older guy moseys up to the door. The driver opens the door and allows him to board. For the next few minutes, this guy does a whole routine of checking his pockets, blowing into his hands, checking his bag, and looking like he was truly puzzled that he could not find his bus card. He knew damn well that he had no card and he just stood there looking like he hoped no one noticed that he didn't pay a bus fare. I noticed, damn you!!! Then he pulled a bottle of Seagram's alcohol out of his hidden coat pocket and got off at the very next stop. Well played Mr. Wine head. So after stopping for a burrito at my favorite burrito spot (that is a direct lie because any place that has burritos is my favorite burrito spot) I boarded the next bus. The problem with that was there was a young lady that boarded ahead of me but decided to plant herself directly over the front wheel well and, despite me and her skinny stature, decided to become an obstacle. Damn it, you skinny chick! Get out of the way!! Suddenly, the bus driver decides to get heavy on the brakes and the bus starts jerking back and forth before I could sit down. Now I am off balance and I can't grab a pole or ring because of this burrito and I look as though I am Salsa dancing with cross bandoleros (my body oil belts) across my chest and a burrito in my hand. All I needed was some music. The people in the back were looking at me wondering why I was so happy about my burrito. That was not happiness. It was the terror of feeling that I would injure myself and have to explain to the EMTs why I didn't drop the burrito to save myself. It's kind of like the monkey that can't free himself of the jar because he won't let go of the item that was in the jar.