What should we not do in a moving bus?

What not to do on a moving bus?

Ugh, buses. Remember that time, July 12th last year? The #23 downtown? Some kid wouldn’t stop kicking my seat. So annoying! Seriously, don’t do that.

Stay seated, facing forward. It’s basic safety, people. Common sense, really.

No loud noises. Respect the driver. They’re already dealing with enough chaos. That screeching sound my neighbor made, near impossible to forget.

Don’t litter. Seriously, it’s gross. I found a half-eaten sandwich under my seat once; disgusting. Keep your trash to yourself.

And please, hands and feet to yourselves. Personal space! It’s not that hard. I almost lost an eye once when someone swung their bag around.

Basically, be decent. Treat others how you’d like to be treated, you know?

What not to do on a school bus?

Back of the bus… always. Fuzzy warmth?

Never, ever touch that door. Emergency door? Hands off.

Bags, backpacks, a fortress of forgotten homework. Don’t block.. Don’t… just don’t.

Sun bleeds through dusty windows. The door, a silent promise.

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• Emergency Exit: It is there for emergencies. Not boredom.
• Blocking Aisles: Imagine a rush. That door? Open and clear.
• Safety’s embrace? The bus rumbles onwards.

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Never, I say, ever touch that lever. Back there, was it really that long ago, when I rode old Blue Bird #33? Never. Never.

Why should we not get of a moving bus?

The lurch. A sickening, stomach-dropping lurch. The world tilts. Forward. Always forward. Time stretches, a rubber band pulled taut, then snapping. My own forward momentum, a cruel joke, a betrayal. Gravity, a sudden, unforgiving hand. The ground, a hard, unyielding beast.

Inertia. That’s the word. The body remembers movement. A phantom limb. It’s a fight against physics, a losing battle. We are not machines. We are fragile. We break.

A scraped knee. Years ago. Blurred memory. A bus. A rush. A fall. The asphalt, gritty and unforgiving. Pain, sharp and sudden. A lesson learned in blood and tears.

• The danger: Forward momentum. Unstoppable.

• The physics: Inertia. Body continues moving. Feet stop. The imbalance. The fall. Inevitably.

• The consequences: Injuries. Bruises. Broken bones. Head trauma. Even death. The risks are real. They are not theoretical.

This isn’t conjecture, it’s experience. It’s the visceral memory of that fall, the sharp sting of pavement against skin. A lesson, hard-won and deeply etched into the fabric of my being. It’s not just theory; it’s a scar. A reminder of the unforgiving nature of physics. A moving bus is a violent machine. And we are simply… too soft.

What is not allowed in a bus?

Forget bowling balls, man, those things are obviously banned! Try lugging one of those behemoths onto a bus – you’d need a forklift. Think of the carnage!

No weapons, duh. Knives, hammers, screwdrivers – you’d think this was common sense. Unless you’re planning a surprisingly violent game of DIY on wheels. My cousin Dave tried to bring a blowtorch once. He didn’t last long.

Hazardous materials are a big no-no. Like, don’t even think about it. I once saw a guy try to sneak on with a vat of pickle juice. The stink alone almost caused a riot.

• Explosives: Need I say more?
• Flammable liquids: Gasoline, nail polish remover… Seriously, people.
• Oversized items: Anything too big to fit without blocking the aisle, think Grandma’s prize-winning pumpkin.
• Anything potentially smelly: My friend’s ferret escaped once, and that bus reeked for days.

Glass bottles are fragile and dangerous – imagine the shrapnel if someone takes a tumble! Plus, cleaning up broken glass on a moving bus sounds like a nightmare.

Anything that could cause a ruckus or injure fellow passengers is a hard no. We’re talking full-on “common sense” territory here. Use your head, people! Last year, some bloke tried bringing a pet pig. Seriously.

What not to do in the bus?

The bus, a metal whale swimming through city veins. Smelly yes, a symphony of yesterday’s lunches and hurried mornings. Litter, oh, the ghosts of discarded dreams swirling at my feet.

Silent… Silence, a whispered plea to the gods of transit. My phone, a cold stone in my palm. Notifications, a siren song I must resist.

Texts, just texts, fleeting thoughts across the digital ether. Keep calls, like secrets shared in hushed tones.

The driver, a weary captain at the helm. Avoid, yes, avoid the jarring cry of “Stop!” too late. Missed stops and bitter regret. Never too late, I hope.

• Smell and Litter: These create an unpleasant environment for everyone on the bus. It’s inconsiderate.
• Phone Etiquette:
  • Silence phones and disable notification sounds.
  • Texting is less disruptive than phone calls.
  • If a call is necessary, keep it short and quiet.
• Respect the Driver: Alerting the driver too late can cause safety issues. Plan ahead.

Where should you not sit on a bus?

Don’t be a chump and sit near the back of the bus, especially downstairs. That’s where the fumes are – think toxic swamp gas, only less romantic. Seriously, you’ll smell everything, ten times worse than normal. Your nose will be a super-sniffer, like a bloodhound on a trail of week-old fish and chips.

Priority seats downstairs? Yeah, right. Grab one if you’re a grandma or a ninja with impressive balance skills.

Upstairs, three rows from the front – aisle seat – is your best bet. Think of it like this: you’re avoiding the olfactory apocalypse. Avoid the human aroma bouquet near the back like the plague. It’s a jungle down there.

My uncle Barry learned this the hard way, ended up smelling like a day-old kebab after a long journey.

Here’s the lowdown:

• Back of the lower deck: Smells like a dumpster fire crossed with a kebab shop. No bueno.
• Near anyone with takeout: Prepare for a sensory overload of questionable smells. Imagine a curry explosion in slow motion.
• Priority seats (downstairs): Only if you’re comfortable with a strong whiff of elderly perfume and disinfectant. You’ve been warned.
• Three rows from the front (upstairs, aisle): A strategic positioning of olfactory dominance. You win.

I once sat near a guy eating durian on the bus. Never again. Seriously, smelled like a gym sock that wrestled a skunk. The whole bus reeked for hours!

Which of the following are buses never to carry?

Buses absolutely never transport certain things. This isn’t a matter of suggestion; it’s a hard rule. Safety first, right? Think about it – a crowded bus isn’t the ideal place for a mishap.

Hazardous materials are strictly forbidden. This includes a wide range of substances. Let’s get specific:

• Explosives: Obviously. Need I say more? The potential for catastrophic damage is just too high.
• Flammable liquids: Gasoline, lighter fluid, even some paints are off-limits. One spark, one wrong move… you get the picture. My uncle had a close call with some paint thinner once. It was scary.
• Chemicals: This is a broad category, encompassing everything from strong acids to corrosive materials. Think about the potential for spills and skin contact. Not a good combo with a bunch of people.
• Radioactive substances: This is just plain common sense. I’m not even going to explain.
• Infectious substances: Biohazards. Think anthrax. Enough said. Seriously, this isn’t a debate.

This isn’t an exhaustive list, of course. Regulations vary slightly by jurisdiction, but the core principle remains the same: buses are for people, not perilous payloads. The inherent risks associated with transporting hazardous materials outweigh any potential benefit. It’s a simple cost-benefit analysis that invariably favors safety. Besides, there are much safer and better-suited methods for moving those items. Think specialized trucks, specifically designed for the task. Isn’t that a far more sensible approach?

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