There's another bus directly behind this one

I understand that urban living occasionally requires you to flatout sprint for a bus.

The bus schedule is a quixotic thing, and if your iPod-wearing, Uggs-rocking, everything bagel-eating, cappuccino-slurping, text message sending, free morning newspaper crossword puzzling, umbrella in the snowstorm ass wants to make it to work within the on-time ballpark, you're probably going to have to accept the twice a month ridiculousness of lunging through traffic after a giant rolling billboard. That's fine.

My problem is when people catch up to the bus earlier than expected and then try to play it cool. Both shoelaces are undone, they look like an extra in Twister, and now they're pretending they've been impatiently waiting for the bus for half an hour. We all saw you running alongside us two seconds ago, fake Burberry scarf flying in the wind, electronics bouncing around like cans behind a wedding limo, breathing like Darth Vader. You're not fooling anyone.

But there he is, giving the driver a pound, taking the only empty seat, winking at the girl with the beat-up novel. Try not to sweat on me player.