I didn't get to ride one of Metro Transit's lovely new hybrid buses until a couple of months ago. They're new, so they're nice. They're quiet.
They're also smaller. And the quarters inside are rather tight. Those close quarters, combined with my long legs, high-heeled boots and the 947 glasses of wine I had at Nami last night are why I have a giant, bruised goose egg on my right knee, which I bashed into the seat when I slid in and sat down.
My general klutziness had nothing to do with this of course. It was the wine. And the other stuff. I mean, I certainly don't have a gash and bruise on my other knee from slamming my knee into the strike plate on my closet door while changing my underwear totally sober after work on Thursday. No way. Not me.