Using public transportation is embarrassing as is. In Egypt your means of transportation is an indication for your class, oh you can mask it by saying you’re trying to be more green, or you hate parking, or that you’re trying socialism for size, but the truth is no one would dare set foot in those dutch-ovens unless he had to.
My biggest beef with public transportation isn’t how sweaty stink or crowded it is, it’s these fucks who take out their cells and blast there favorite jam with complete disregard for the rest of the passengers, the balls on them. Nobody seems to mind though; within the working class sharing is accepted if not celebrated, but this ain’t no satellite hookup or ADSL, so why am I should I put up with this bull shit.
Sometimes people wanna share the love, and instead of playing a secular song they opt for playing the Quran instead. For them it’s a win-win, for me it’s my worst bus-riding nightmare. I don’t want to listen to Quran on the bus, and I hate justifying my bus-napping fetish to people, so I always end up with having to choose the lesser of two evils, either to man up , voice my complaint and risk coming off as an infidel, or shut the fuck up. I shut the fuck up.
Tony Robbins believes that people are drivin by six needs: certainty, uncertainty, significance, connection or love, growth, contribution beyond oneself. This list is incomplete because he forgot to add the most important need according to Egyptian people: To annoy the living fuck out of a person.
Arguably the lowest form of Egyptian self-expression, this behavior has its deep roots in the time old tradition of making one’s presence known. People must take notice of you or else why even exist? It’s the same drive that make some ass superimpose his name and email on comedy clips before posting them on you tube, or crediting trailer makers, or Egyptian actors being on every single frame of their one-man-show movies.
And hey guy who must listen to shitty songs on the bus, they’re called earphones, you’ll find them in the same box that your cellphone came in. And if you bought yours third hand for less dough than what you dish out on your hair gel, splurge an extra 5 on an earpiece, you’re the cock of the walk and you deserve a treat.