Opinion piece by Schuszter Borka
A few stops into my bus ride, three teenagers got on — two boys and a girl. They settled into the standing area near the doors, loud and easy in the way that teenagers are, and without a second's hesitation the girl kept right on vaping. Not a flicker of self-consciousness. Like the bus wasn't a sealed public vehicle but her own living room.
Within seconds, the smell had spread to every corner of the bus. Peach, cotton candy, and something like artificial fruit syrup — that particular sweetness that somehow makes you resent every real piece of fruit you've ever enjoyed.
My first instinct was to say something.
But I didn't
The three of them stood there laughing and chatting, completely at ease — like they owned not just the bus but the entire city. Like the rest of us were extras in the background of their lives.
So instead of speaking up, I watched the other passengers.
I saw eyes rolling. Someone briefly pinched their nose. Gazes kept drifting toward the girl. More than one person drew a slow, deep breath — the kind you take when you're almost ready to say something. And then everyone stayed quiet.
Including me.
Why didn't anyone say a word?
Why does the idea of calling out a teenager for something completely ordinary feel so loaded? Part of it, I think, is that today's teenagers carry a kind of confidence that most adults have quietly surrendered.
It's not necessarily disrespect. They simply communicate differently. They're loud. They're direct. They genuinely don't seem to care what a stranger thinks of them.
And perhaps most importantly: they appear completely unbothered by the possibility of conflict.
We, on the other hand, are terrified of it.
Terrified they'll talk back.
Terrified they'll laugh at us.
Terrified someone will film it.
Terrified that we'll suddenly become the "old guy," the "Karen," the boomer who just doesn't get it.
And of course, sometimes we simply don't want a scene on the bus with three strangers.
But something strange is happening in all that silence. We're staying quiet in more and more situations where, not long ago, it would have been completely natural for an adult to speak up.
Nobody's asking for a lecture. Nobody needs to be humiliated or subjected to a "back in my day" speech.
All it would take is something like: "Hey — could you not do that in here? It's bothering everyone."
That's it.
Maybe they'd say fine.
Maybe they'd say no.
Maybe they'd laugh.
And yes, in some cases someone might actually react aggressively — which is a different situation entirely, and nobody should risk a real confrontation over an unpleasant smell.
But if I'm honest, what made me feel strange wasn't fear of physical danger. I was afraid of looking stupid. I was afraid of coming across as uptight, out of touch, preachy. And when did that become more uncomfortable for adults than simply watching someone break a shared social rule?
Maybe we've spent so long talking about how confident, assertive, and impossible to handle today's kids are that we've talked ourselves out of even trying.
But I don't think the goal is for teenagers to be afraid of adults. Not at all.
The goal is for them to learn — as we all had to — that there are moments when other people's comfort matters too. And for that lesson to land, we adults have to be willing to play the uncomfortable role of the person who actually says something.
Is it ever worth saying something to a stranger's teenager?
Yes — especially when the behavior affects others in a shared space. A calm, brief comment is almost always better than stewing in resentment. You're not parenting them; you're just naming what's happening.
Why do adults freeze up in these moments?
The fear isn't usually physical danger — it's social embarrassment. Most adults dread being mocked, filmed, or dismissed as out of touch far more than they fear a real confrontation. That's a relatively new dynamic in public life.
What's a good way to say something without starting a fight?
Short, neutral, and non-dramatic tends to work best. Something like "Hey, that's bothering people in here" is direct without being aggressive. Avoid sarcasm, moralizing, or anything that sounds like a lecture — it gives them less to push back against.
Does staying silent send a message to teenagers?
Collective adult silence can quietly signal that the behavior is acceptable — or at least that no one cares enough to challenge it. Over time, that shapes expectations about what's normal in public spaces.
