#14: The Back Seat Driver

I dread — dread — taking the last bus out of the Port Authority. It's just filled with drunks and the biggest social retards the 167 has ever chauffeured. It becomes like the 167 of the 167.

This guy is the KING of all 167-ers, the Sultan of Stupidity, the Messiah of Mental Midgets, and a testament to the fact that everyone can find someone cause this dude is actually married. 

He always, always sits in the front seat, which, you know, I get it. I love the front seat, too. But I mean somehow this dude is also magically the first guy on the bus always. It's as though the white horse of the bus pulls up, but instead of Prince Charming, it's holding his illegitimate, one-eyed, drooling, guffawing dumbass brother, whom the family locks away when anyone visits. He is self-designated as the bus host/tour guide since he's always leaning forward when people board, checking everyone out, ready with a quip, anecdote, or jab.

Guess what, Captain Asshole? Nobody asked for your opinion.

If someone asks the driver a question (and believe me, at that time of night the questions run the gamut from, "Can I carry this plant on here?" to, "OK so you don't go to Ridgewood, but would you drive me there anyway?") the Back Seat Driver answers for him and he totally gets off on knowing the answers, too. I know. I practically heard him jizzing in his pants in this video below. No shit, moron, the help person really carries a clipboard? How is it possible that you're not a fucking rocket scientist?

As if that wasn't bad enough, homeboy won't shut the fuck up once the doors close, either. He proceeds to regale the bus driver with the minutiae of his sad, worthless little life — loudly. 

Nobody gives a fuck.

I now know all about his son's dating problems (he can't get any) and how nobody appreciates him at work (at NASA, no doubt). Truth be told, based on what he was telling the driver, I believe his son is probably a raging, rainbow-and-unicorn-loving, Cher-adoring, meatpacking-is-more-than-a-district, closeted homosexual. But his father will either never figure this out, or he'll never admit it. He's just convinced his art-loving, Broadway-afficionado of a son is just too "shy" to meet girls.

It makes me want to yell at him, "RICHARD SIMMONS HAS HIT MORE VAJAY THAN YOUR SON!"

I really hate people who can see, but are blind. 

153 more to go!