In Berkeley, my bus was the Crazy Bus (all you current and former East Bay folk, is not the 51 the bus most likely to contain a crazy person of all the buses you know?). Now three or four times a week, I take the Drama Bus. The Drama Bus runs from downtown along the edge of gentrification to not gentrified, a route that could alternatively be classified in terms of race or use, in predictable ways. It passes a major hospital, several schools, and some wasteland.
The Drama Bus is probably one of the most diverse entities in East Coast Big City. You've got your white and Black yuppies, your mostly black and Latino students , your Chinese grandparents, your bums of all races, your young moms and their kids, your business people: pretty much everyone. Then you have always, and I mean always, your person on her cell phone--it's pretty much always a woman--loudly sharing her drama with the world. There's some serious drama on the Drama Bus: abusive boyfriends, illness, homelessness, truancy, addiction. All broadcast loud and clear to the rest of the bus. I suppose when things are that bad, you don't care who hears it.
My drama is not that bad, and regularly riding the Drama Bus is a great way to appreciate your life. But I have to say, I have become that obnoxious person who is always on her phone, sharing the details of her personal and work life with the world. I'm that person who looks at her phone when it rings while she's talking to you. The person who texts in meetings and at the circus. It's hideous, I hate that person, but right now there doesn't seem to be any way out of it: it's me and my phone, taking on the world.