Not-so-great expectations (or, the joys of busing while pregnant)

• When you have the nose of a bloodhound, every bus is a funky bus. Perfume, lotion, hair products, food smells–to say nothing of the less pleasant scents associated with humans–all can cause an olfactory nightmare at least as offensive as that 27 ride last June.

• Walking? OK. Sitting? Very OK. Standing in one place for more than a minute? Not OK. Hence, benchless stops and crowded buses are not a PBC*’s friend.

• New, important addition to the bus chick bag: A sturdy, leak-proof plastic bag, to be used in cases of extreme nausea emergencies when exiting the bus is not possible. (Fortunately, I have yet to use mine.)

• Jeans are no longer a wise fashion choice, as opening a top button (or two) of one’s fly when seated is generally frowned upon by other riders.

• There is no event or destination (with the exception, perhaps, of a Prince concert) worth running to catch a bus for. Important meeting? Court date? Swearing-in ceremony? Eh. They’ll get along alright without you until the next bus arrives.

*PBC = Pregnant bus chick.

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