Part of the appeal of taking the bus to and from work each day, besides the obvious benefits of conserving gas and minimizing one's impact on the environment, is the wide array of personalities and intellects one comes across while riding the bus. On Thursday night, I got to witness the unfolding - and then demise - of a romantic relationship while going home.

Shortly after I boarded the bus in Sherman Oaks, a blonde in her late 30's boarded, and asked the bus driver if he was going to Burbank. "I have to go to Pass!" she told him, referring to Pass Avenue. The driver assured her that that was one of his stops, and she took a seat in the back of the bus.

The bus proceeded down its route - North on Sepulveda, then East on Magnolia. After we turned on Magnolia, the blonde came running up to the front of the bus, furious. "You said we were going to Burbank! This isn't the way to Burbank!" Um, actually, it is. Burbank is West of Sherman Oaks. I took this as a sign that she was perhaps not all there. The bus driver - again - told her he'd be stopping in Burbank. Skeptically, she took a seat toward the front of the bus, still looking doubtfully at the driver.

At this point, a scruffy-looking fellow who was clearly carrying everything he owned with him on the bus, struck up a rather loud conversation with her. Although I was busy texting my sister about the kitten I'm about to adopt, I couldn't help overhear him tell her that he was partially American-Indian, and people didn't appreciate this country, and that he was 34 years old, single, and disease-free. With this much information divulged in 30 seconds, I began to assume that he, also, was perhaps not all there. "You're really good looking for your age," the blonde told him, and that marked the beginning of their flirtation.

After more conversation, in which the entire bus learned that he was also divorced, that the ex had taken everything, and he was on his way to live with a friend, he suggested that she give him her phone number. "Right away?" she asked. Suddenly, the man became hard of hearing, and after asking, "What?" several times, he moved across the aisle to sit directly next to her (to hear her better, of course). Apparently, she expressed her concern over giving her phone number to someone she had just met, and the man became irate. He moved back over to his seat on the other side of the bus, with a string of four-letter words, "F--- you! I don't have time for this s--- from c---s like you who lead a guy on!"

Considering this, I think she made a wise decision.

The explitives continued the duration of the bus ride, increasing when the blonde asked him he wanted to take it off the bus, indicating she'd like to fight him. He responded with, "Go ahead, and I'll have you arrested for assault!" Happily, peace reigned again when we reached his stop and he exited the bus.

Now, I ask you, where else can you witness an entire romance - the meeting, the courtship, and the breakup - in a ten-minute period? Only on the bus!