Whitey Rides the Magic Bus

My friend Riley sent me a link to Christian Lander's satirical blog, "Stuff White People Like." According to Lander, liberal whites are very similar in their preferences and habits.

What I found alternately humorous and disturbing is how much I fit the bill.

With the exceptions of liking Asian girls (in that way) and hating my parents, it would appear that I could be the poster child for this demographic.

Lander's white people are fans of things like grammar, organic food, yoga, Juno, environmental awareness, sushi, and David Sedaris. Check, check, check, check, check, check, and check. I also love Stephen Colbert, have two last names, and wish I had more gay friends.

Even physically, as Riley points out, I'm the whitest person she knows (thanks for that, by the way.)

My only point of departure is that Lander claims that environmentally-conscious white people support public transportation, as long as it doesn't involve a bus.

I love the bus.

The bus is clean, reliable, and relatively cheap. So, I suppose, are the riders. The bus is filled with courteous people who seem to shower daily. Polite but firm rules govern the waiting queue. Cell phones are answered only rarely and in hushed, embarasses tones.

Many of the riders are crew-cutted military personnel, so I'm pretty sure that no one's going to mess with us. I'm not sure how this would happen, but if our bus was ever in a street fight with passengers in another vehicle, we would totally kick their ass.

Commuting from an outer suburb is tough. I realized that just to drive from Leesburg to Ballston costs me over $50/day, counting mileage, tolls, and parking. The bus cuts down on my costs, my stress, and my carbon emissions guilt (another fixation of white people.) Bus stop proximity has actually become a criteria on whether I accept a teaching gig.

Sure, there used to be a creepy male driver who yammered on about cheating on his wife. The same driver told me that I couldn't bring my wheeled carry-on because that bus went to the Pentagon and someone might think I'm carrying a bomb, but I haven't seen him in months. Every other driver has been brusquely professional; they run a tight ship.

I highly recommend taking the bus, but I won't tell you where it is or how to find it. It's getting very hard to get a seat when you board at a full run as the doors prepare to close. I don't need any more competition. Embrace the bus, but get your own.

I guess I've found another thing that white people like: believing that we're unique, not really part of the crowd. I may walk like a duck and quack like a duck, but don't try to tell me that I'm not a swan.