#4: The Whiner

Take road rage, remove the violence, add both the volume and pitch of a tortured cat and pour it into a chalupa and you’ll get...The Whiner.

“AAAY! Why doesn’t she move! Doesn’t she know she’s blockeeng all thees boo-sehs?” The Whiner moaned loud enough for the entire bus to hear because the bus lane had slowed to a crawl and the bus in the front was moving slower than it took Kevin Federline to learn how to read .

Before we reached the Port Authority she looked at me and held up two fingers in my face and said, “Two days! Two days now we’ve had thees cone-geeestion!” I stared at her blankly. First, I had to translate her words in my head, and second, I was distracted by her visible ability to count.

She also actually got up and asked the driver if she could be dropped off sooner than the Port Authority. Uh…after the tunnel are just thin ramps bordering five Pissed-Off-I-Just-Sat-In-Tunnel-Traffic lanes and then the Port Authority. I guess she wanted to be let off on the ramp so she could play leap frog or something?

But my own personal favorite signature move of The Whiner is when she bitches about the driver’s driving —loud enough (purposely, natch) so he or she can hear.

“AAAY! Thees one goes SOOO slow! We are naaaayver going to get there! We don’t have aaaaalll day, zhu know what I’m saying?! AAAAY!” Then she nudges me and nods over at the driver, who is either deaf or doesn’t give a shit. Much like myself.

163 more to go!