Now that Valentine’s Day is behind us and the insufferable couples who littered your Instagram feed with sentimental nonsense have retired to the privacy of their boudoir, it’s time to focus on the good stuff: meaningless sex.
Maybe you used to hit it and quit it in your early 20s or maybe you’re a recent bachelor looking to make up for lost time after an unhealthy relationship crumbled—whatever the case, everyone’s got at least one wild, dumb and fun one night stand story. I desperately need to hear the time you banged on a boat while on a cruise with your family, or when you boned a stranger in the bathroom of a karaoke bar, or the time you accidentally took home an English pop star. Please, drop ‘em below.
But before that, let’s take a look at last week’s winners. These are the most horrible things you’ve seen on public transportation and they are truly repulsive. You guys really delivered.
Annev16 witnessed a human atrocity:
On the train, I started to smell something foul. I glanced towards the back where there was a young woman changing a poopy diaper. Not the greatest situation, but I shrugged it off.
At the next stop, she picks up the diaper and just throws it through the door and onto the train platform—hitting a man who was just standing there, minding his own business.
The man proceeds to pick up the poopy diaper and charge onto the train. He looks around and immediately sees the offending woman with the baby (who thought it would be a good idea to pretend to be asleep). The man opens the diaper up and smears it all over this woman’s face.
They continued to yell and scrape until the next stop. None of the other riders would intervene because of all the shit flying around.
There were no winners that day.
Clare learned a powerful lesson that day—close your damn mouth:
I was sitting across from an older gentleman with a viking hat on who was eating dried rice from a bag. A rude adolescent at the time, I couldn’t help but watch him, mouth ajar, since we were sitting parallel. He looked me dead in the eye and spit a combination of rice and mucous across the row and into my mouth.
aanniee, I hate this vampire shit:
This didn’t happen to me, but to a friend who is a bus driver. My friend said the biggest part of his job is watching out for people to make sure they are safe. This was an evening shift in a rougher part of town, so he was on high alert. A young woman is sitting towards the front of the bus, when a sketchy looking drunk guy gets on the bus and sits next to her. They talk a bit, and after a minute he weaves towards the back of the bus. She follows, and the conversation gets heated. He moves towards the front, she follows. More angry conversation. My busdriver friend is about to stop the bus and intervene on behalf of the young woman, who he assumes is being harrassed by the drunk guy. She suddenly gets off the bus. My friend asks the drunk guy what was going on. It turns out, the drunk guy had cut his leg which was bleeding (he was wearing shorts), and the girl kept trying to touch AND LICK the blood! Goes to show, you never know who the weirdo is on public transit.
Lotta shit stories this week, and Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward will doo-doo you one better—baby poop:
A couple of years ago, husband and I were frequently travelling across Austria by train. Truly beautiful, I recommend it – but only if you pay the small extra to travel business class. Nothing eventful has ever happened to us in business class before or since.
But this one time, we were travelling from Vienna to a small town about three hours away on a local train, which had a narrow corridor with small compartments off of it each seating six people, three facing each other.
The train was full, and although we found our reserved seats, there were people in them. My German isn’t that good but was enough that they stood up and apologised, moving aside to let us sit down. The compartment was now full, six people sitting and two standing. It wasn’t long before the corridor was also full of people standing and some actually sitting on their luggage or the floor.
When the conductor came along to check the tickets, he was obviously used to this as he adeptly avoided standing on anyone’s anything. When he got to our compartment he checked all our tickets and closed our sliding door.
Our compartment was full; an elderly man and wife seated opposite my husband and I, two fairly smart businessmen standing. Seated next to me was a little boy, around 3 years old, and opposite him, his father.
The journey was hot, uncomfortable and awkward in such a small crowded space. Then an alarm went off on the father’s phone. He stood up and reached to the baggage net to get his suitcase down. This involved the standees having to shuffle out of the way as much as they could and not being as adept as the conductor, managed to step on nearly everyone else’s toes.
The father unpacked a child’s plastic potty from his case, set it down on the floor, took a book out of his carry-on bag, pulled down his son’s trousers and pants, sat him on the potty and began reading the book out loud. From the picture on the front it appeared to be a cartoon Pirate who apparently had potty problems himself, but as I said, my German isn’t that good.
The son duly did his potty duties. What they had been feeding him I couldn’t possibly guess but the end result was, shall we say, far less than fragrant. The father then put the book away, got some wet wipes from his bag and wiped down the little boy and the potty. He then tried to open the window, but it was stuck. It was a fairly old train with one large window and two smaller sliding windows above. He tried again, still holding the poop filled wet wipes which were starting to drip, and finally managed to open the window a couple of inches.
He then tried to throw the offending wipes out of the window into the lovely Austrian countryside. Except the train was still moving, and he couldn’t really throw them properly. The poopy wipes ended up being stuck to the outside of the larger window, discharging their contents slowly and inexorably down the window, robbing us of our previously lovely panoramic views of the Tyrol.
He got his son dressed again, put the potty back in his suitcase and the book and remaining wipes in his bag, reached over and put the suitcase back in the luggage net, sat down and put his earphones in as if nothing had happened.
Shortly after that, he got sandwiches, drinks and snacks out of his bag for them both. I couldn’t tell you if he used any clean wipes oh his hands before this; I think I was still in shock, maybe even denial that I had seen what I had seen.
45 minutes later, his alarm went off again. The exact same pantomime happened except mercifully this time the little boy only wanted a wee. Meanwhile, the lovely Austrian mountains were tantalising us outside with glimpses of green through the strangely mottled, sepia-toned window.
45 minutes later, the alarm went off again. This time the little boy didn’t do anything, despite the best efforts of his father and the Pirate book.
The journey passed. Eventually, our stop was getting near, and we decided to leave early so we could be sure of getting past all the corridor campers in good time to get off the train. As we made our way over the jumble of people and luggage, we heard a familiar alarm.
The moment we got off the train we both took the deepest breaths for a few moments. As the train passed us, we were treated to the sight of the father and son waving at us through the poop covered window.
To this day I cannot hear that alarm tone without the memory of the heat and the smell coming back. And I never did find out if the Pirate resolved his own problems.
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