"I'm on the bus." They always say it, no matter who they are or what language they speak. Sometimes it's at the beginning of their cell phone "conversation," sometimes in the middle, sometimes at the end, but they never fail to say it.

"I'm on the bus. Where you at?"

"I'm on the bus. I'll be home in three minutes."

"Listen, I'm on the bus."

Not quite loudly enough for them to hear, I say, "And don't we know it!"

Public transportation is full of addicts. Some get on the bus already yakking and never stop. Others take a seat and immediately pull out their little electronic devices, that is, if they don't already have them in their hands. Fascination and beatific expressions transform their faces as they bend toward the little screen, swiping it with their thumbs. Sometimes I wish I were a medieval portrait painter and could capture those looks of pure bliss. I am surrounded by zombies oblivious to everything around them. If this isn't addiction, I don't know what is. At least they're quiet-until they get or make a call.

It's rare to see someone on a bus reading a book. In fact, who could read with loud yakkers around us? "Who's this?" they yell into their phone after it finally stops its loud, tinny ringing. A dull "hull-oh?" gets repeated maddeningly. "Hull-oh? Hull-oh? Hull-oh? John? John? Hull-oh? John?"

"Nobody told me that!" a woman yells at the top of her voice. I want to yell back, "Well, you're telling everyone now!"

"Please don't hesitate to call again," says a man in a suit hanging over me on a strap. He's under the illusion he's in his office. Hey, what about me?

Then there are the sizzlers with loud music escaping under their headphones, only it sounds nothing like music to the person sitting next to them.

The addiction game begins in the bus shelter. There should be three of them at every stop: one labeled SMOKERS, one YAKKERS, and one BOTH. In the YAKKERS shelter, phone callers can fling their arms around making points, gesticulating wildly, and who cares. But guess who has nowhere to stand and has to wait outside in the cold and the rain?

Here are some of the "conversations" I've been forced to hear on South End buses, the #1 and the Silver Line.

"You're in jail? What for?"

When they talk about "South Bay" on the bus, they don't mean the shopping mall.

A middle-aged woman sitting behind me tells someone on her cell phone that she just got out of the hospital. There's a silence and then she announces, "My right breast."

An Awfully Important type talks to his bank. It sounds like thousands of dollars are at stake. "My account number? 12345678." Awfully Important or Awfully Stupid?

Alison's rules:

Let yakkers and sizzlers get on the bus first. That way, you can see where they sit, and you can sit-or stand-elsewhere. That is, until another yakker sits or stands next to you.

Employ these handy retorts (from a distance):

When they say, "I can't hear you" (invariably two or three times), say. "Well, I can!"

When they say, "You know what I'm sayin'?" say, "Yeah, I know exactly what you're saying."

When they say, "I don't want to talk about this!" say, "Well, don't then!"

When they say, "I'll call you later" say, "Good idea!"

And when the drivers yell, "Move back!" let them know: "It's not our fault."

Once I read in an airlines magazine that cell phones are great for when you want to make a call and have nothing to say. That's much to the point.

Good uses for cell phones (that we'll never see):

For school buses picking up children, instead of honking

For taxis, especially in the middle of the night

For communication between buses. Why don't drivers on packed buses use technology to locate each other, to find out, for instance, that an empty bus is about to pass a packed-to-the-gills bus, and signal it to stop and relieve our misery? I'm tired of Silver Line drivers getting nasty when the electronic board says one thing, reality is another, and the destination sign is scrambled. I need to know whether it's a SL4 or SL5.

How come no one ever stops yakking to make a call to the MBTA complaint line? That would be a good use for a cell phone when there's a significant problem or you've been waiting forever.

For emergencies. Are there ever any?

One day at Hynes Auditorium on the Green Line, I noticed a sign with letters missing:

LAST
RAIN
LEAVES
A
12:50

Some wag had changed it to:

LAST
BRAIN
LEAVES
At
12:50

Alison Barnet is the author of the recently-published South End Character, which can be purchased for $10 at the South End Food Emporium, 465 Columbus Ave., Blunch at 59 East Springfield Street, or the South End Branch Library. They do it "for the neighborhood" and make no profit from the book.