The woman leans into you, her thigh pushing against your arm, her knee nudging your elbow. She shifts, pushing into you hard, the seams of her clothing pressing into your skin through your shirt. The sweltering heat encompasses you, sweat beading on your forearms, the back of your shirt sticking to your skin, the heat of her body simply accentuates it all, the smell of her sweat hanging like a haze around you. She moves again pushing into your shoulder, her knee nudging and now pushing insistently against your thigh, her chest inches from your face as she bends over you.
The atmosphere is close, and you can barely breathe. You reach for an iron bar and grab on to it, trying to hang on to your sanity as your body jerks back and forth. You look up and see a man, his shirt sweat stained and his belly hanging over his belt, side step quickly towards you. His hand comes in contact with yours as he too reaches for the bar, his belly moving closer to your face and his thigh resting against yours.
And through all this you are thinking, “Damn it! Why do buses get so crowded!”