They surrounded me. The little girl, no more than 6, sat facing the back of the bus, wrangling for attention from the two boys, maybe 8, maybe her brothers, behind me. I tried to read my New Yorker, but their conversation was much more engrossing. One of the boys related the story of how he no longer shops at Ross because he pissed on the manager’s shoes and was escorted out. What???? I so wanted to turn around and see the teller of said story. They then turned to “yo momma” jokes.

“Yo momma’s so old I took her to see Jurassic Park and she started having flashbacks.”

“Well, yo momma’s so old I told her to act her age and she done died.”

It just wasn’t as fun when they got off the bus.