This sounds like a weird one.
The bus home to Boston is not exactly the most comfortable ride on the planet. Last time I somehow managed to pick the row of seats that must be made specifically for children as I was forced to sit with my knees to my chest for four hours next to a particularly snoozy backpacker.
Who could blame him? Here's a guy who clearly lives the transient life, taking pictures of small towns and cities alike, wearing those boots and hefting that ENORMOUS backpack all travelers must own to look legitimately transient-y. He's out in the world, wandering, adventuring, eating oysters and drinking sake (I don't know, to me that signifies adventure), and he needed a GD nap, GD tiny seats be damned! GD IT!
Between tiny cat stretches, I started thinking about the strange feeling growing in my chest (besides claustrophobia...har har): jealousy. Not only could this man sleep (something I find impossible to do under the most comfortable of circumstances), but he was sleeping completely balls-out in front of a bus full of strangers.
(Disclaimer: I sleep with my mouth wide open. It's for breathing, guys.)
And so, taking the bus from NY to Boston, in a bus that was-admittedly-nearly empty, I decided it was time to take the plunge. First I rested my head against the window. IMMENSE VIBRATION OF THE WORST KIND. Next, I tried to curl up in a ball with my knees on the seat in front of me. SLIPPING AH SLIPPING GOODBYE I'M IN THE HOLE. Finally, the genius in me battled the VIBRATION OF THE WORST KIND by brandishing my coat as a mediator between the window and myself.
Something about sleeping in public with my mouth hanging open like Bachelor Brad's thinking face (went there) makes me feel like a dust-covered, muscular, adventurous young person.