Bus dilemma

This incident was sent in by a reader; all the commentary, pigeon opinions, and misplaced rage are mine.

If you've read anything I've written before, you’ll know about T.W.A.T., Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. The midweek hellscape of commuting, when every bus, train, and platform is filled with the most useless people imaginable. So naturally, this incident happened on a Tuesday.

Now, I respect people who wake up at 5:30 am and manage to be functional. It’s incredible. Personally, my entire morning goal is just to not move for as long as humanly possible. Waking up early and going to the gym? Couldn't be me. Not just because I’d rather sleep, but because I’d likely fall off a treadmill, or worse, confuse the rowing machine for a bed and pass out.

But back to the reader’s story.

It’s 6:30 am. The sky is still that weird grey-blue. The trees are swaying, the birds are tooting (or screaming, depending on how you feel about pigeons). I’m not a fan. I’ve never successfully kicked one. I stopped trying when I was younger. Some regrets.

Our commuter boards a nearly empty bus. Bliss. The rare kind of bus where you get to choose your seat, a kind of early morning lottery win. They smile at the three other passengers. This is a sacred moment of peace, shared only among the chosen few who sacrificed sleep for sanity.

They pick a seat at the front, place their gym and work bags on the seat next to them, and settle in with a book and a hot coffee. Bags not blocking priority seats. Plenty of space for others. Nothing wrong here.

Quick side note, I said “fresh coffee.” I assume most people don’t store coffee overnight. But if you do? No judgement. You do you.

And then.

He arrives.

Mid-40s. Male. Average height. Wearing a tweed suit, at 6:45 in the bloody morning. He steps onto the mostly empty bus, scans the sea of available seats... and heads straight for our reader.

“Can I sit here?”

I'm sorry, what?

Out of all the seats on this bus, actual empty rows, window seats, priority seats, this man, who clearly lacks all sense of spatial awareness or basic decency, wants to sit there. Right next to someone who's reading, drinking coffee, juggling two bags, and very clearly not looking to chat.

Let’s review the weirdness:

Creep factor: Why would a grown man insist on sitting right next to someone on a practically empty bus? Suspicious behaviour.

Practicality: There's a book, hot coffee, and multiple bags involved. This isn’t a two-second bag shuffle; it's an operation.

Tone: Apparently, this guy skipped breakfast and went straight for a confrontation.

The reader, trying to avoid a mess, gestures to the abundance of other free seats and says, “Would it not be easier to sit over there?” Logical, right?

But no. Tweed Man came prepared for drama.

He snaps, “Did your bags pay for that seat?”

Ah yes. The classic line of passive-aggressive transport warriors everywhere.

Now, just a quick PSA, when you buy a bus ticket, you’re paying to ride from Point A to Point B. Not for a guaranteed seat. Standing is still very much part of the deal. So let’s not pretend this was some grand injustice. The man wasn’t seeking justice. He was seeking conflict.

But fine. Our reader obliges, shuffles their bags with extreme difficulty, trying not to spill coffee or lose their place in the book. And so, they sit. Elbow to elbow. In silence. While the rest of the bus remains gloriously empty.

All the while thinking, as anyone would, “What the actual fuck is wrong with this man?”

So… were they in the wrong?

Honestly, no.

The reader made it clear, if the bus had been full or even moderately busy, they’d have moved their bags without question. That’s basic commuting etiquette. No drama.

But this wasn’t that. This was 6:30 in the morning on a nearly empty bus, with three other passengers, and seats everywhere. It wasn’t about space; it was about being difficult. This man saw an opportunity to turn a non-issue into a statement.

And sometimes, that’s the worst kind of interaction, not the loud, obvious conflict, but the quiet little power plays that completely ruin a moment of peace for no reason at all.

In the end, the reader didn’t spill their coffee. They didn’t cause a scene. They just sat in uncomfortable silence, wondering how someone could be so petty, so early in the day.

And that is the spirit of a T.W.A.T. Tuesday.