JibberJabber. Volume 1. Here we go.

Yesterday morning. 8:35 a.m. I walk out my door to a windy February day; the temperature sitting at a brisk 28 degrees. I walk up the steps (I reside in an underground mancave) and head out down to the street to catch the bus to work. I do this five days a week, and it’s the same, enthralling sequence of time everyday. Wake up, shower, brush teeth, go outside, listen to iPod, walk down the street, take the bus approximately 11 minutes to the office. On Tuesday morning though, the gods tossed me a curveball. Click the read more button to step in my shoes if you feel so inclined.

First off, I absolutely nail the walk from my apartment to the bus stop, and pick up the bus literally in stride. This is arguably the most satisfying occurrence possible in the world of a commuter. There’s minimal time spent feeling your nose passages turn to ice blocks in the subzero Boston temperatures, and there’s no sprinting to a bus that’s leaving as you arrive to the stop. It’s a fine line to walk, but when you’re not early and you’re not late, the effortless in-stride bus entry is a move for the ages.

I swipe my bus pass, and post up in a chair by the door, directly behind a middle-aged woman with the thickest ginger flow I’ve seen in my entire life. Just an endless birds nest of red hair, billowing down the back of the seat. Personal space is not a number one priority on public transportation, so I found myself a little too close to the ginger mop atop this woman’s head than I would’ve liked. I get myself comfortable, and turn up the Skrillex, currently my go-to artist for the morning commute. I choose Skrillex at 8:30 a.m., because it’s against human nature to not be awake after a few rounds of “With You, Friends”. Check it below, and if you’re weirded out by the beginning just wait until the melody drops around the 1:00 mark and you’ll be good to go.

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Download: Skrillex – With You, Friends

In addition to the Skrillex on the iPod, I tossed on some Burt’s Bees lip balm (acai flavored), as I do every winter morning. Burt’s Bees dominates any form of chapped lips you could ever come across. I’m sure I’ve already lost 3/4 of you that started reading this, but I promise all of the details are relevant to the conclusion of this story.

A few stops before my office, the bus pulls over to pick up some passengers. The doors swing open, and an enormous gust of wind sweeps through the aisle. As it does so, the hair on Ginger Birds Nest Lady absolutely loses it’s shit.  Flies all over the fucking place. Sideways, up and down, left and right; it goes buckwild. Flaming red hairs measuring approximately 3 feet in length release from GBNL’s scalp, and fly backwards on a bee-line at my face. Atrocious, thick, long ginger hairs were on the loose, and my Burt’s Bees was acting as the ultimate magnet. Before I can make any sort of dodge move, my lips in their entirety are covered in this woman’s loose hairs. I attempt to peel them off one by one, but it just wasn’t happening; the Burt’s was like superglue.

Fast forward ten minutes and I’m in the men’s room in my office, face up against the mirror, plucking a foreign ginger’s hairs off my lips. Skrillex, Mother Nature, Ginger Birds Nest Lady, Burt’s Bees…fuck you all.