MTS moves me!

So I sold my car when I left for Copenhagen, and for the following year relied whole heatedly on bicycle power and public transportation-- only to move back to San Diego in June, still car-less, and realize the absolute horror of California's public transportation system.  But, to be fair, not every day of riding the bus and trolley is an absolute horror....and not every day of riding public transit in CPH was gumdrops and sunshine.

So below are a few short stories of things that have happened to me on public transit since I sold my car. But can you guess what happened where?

1. I was sitting on the bus and the homeless man at the front dropped his coffee on the floor. I didn't notice until I smelled it and looked over for source of synthetic vanilla and fragrant coffee. The passengers on one side of the bus had their feet drawn up to the seats, avoiding the stream of hot liquid splashed across the floor. The homeless man sat with his elbows on his knees, looking down emptily as his paper cup that rolled from between his feet into the quickly spreading brown puddle. I wanted to help, but I just sat there. And so did everyone else.
   
2. It was standing room only, except for the lone, gangling  black man, who danced with the freedom and fluidity of a underground rave, singing loudly out of tune with the human ear. He wore ratty jeans, and new shoes.
   
3. The teenager swayed drunkenly, eyes half closed and face slack. He reached into his pocket producing a pack of cigarettes. He stuck on into his mouth, missing at first, then finally managing. A lighter struck from no where and he was suddenly smoking in the confined, moving vehicle. Everyone staring in a momentary stunned horror.
   
4. The bus driver hit the horn hard, three quick, sequential honks; as if he was waving at the two girls waiting for him at the stop, which he blew passed without a second thought. Leaving them yelling and waving their arms.
   
5. There was no room to sit, every bench filled with sports fans adorned in their bright team colors. I stood awkwardly, balancing a heavy purse and travel bag between my knees and tried to reach in vain for the handle strap above my head. Teasing me by being centimeters away from my out stretched  fingers. Oh the trials of being short. A tap on my shoulder and a man was offering me his seat, trading places with me and easily holding on to the strap as we move with a jolt.
   
6. I got on the bus and smiled a hello to the driver, before I could walk past and take my place he stopped me and professed 'You just know exactly how to wait for the bus. You waited for the bus so well.' I awkwardly thanked him, and sat down-- awash in absolute confusion, but an underlining sense of preschool-esque pride. Yeah, I do know how to wait for the bus. That's right I do.
   
7. I stood just out side the bus doors and leaned in far enough to ask the driver, do you stop at....He replied 'I am not a taxi' and shut the doors in my face. Splashing me with gutter water as he pulled away from the stop.

So What happened where?!

Welll....7. Copenhagen 6. Copenhagen 5. San Diego 4. San Diego 3. Copenhagen 2. Copenhagen 1. San Diego

Granted, those are four of the only stories I can remember from the 10 months I lived in Denmark (and ones that wouldn't give away that it was a different country), and three of the many stories I have from riding San Diego transportation for about three months. Oh the joys of being car-less.  Anyone else have any wonderfully memorable stories of public transit? I'm sure you can one-up me easily.