I'm in an ethics class at the moment, and one the first questions we had to write on was about the distinction between an ethical decision and other types of decisions we make throughout our day. My answer? There is no difference. Upon closer inspection, our every day decisions are informed by our values, informed by our own morality and our own brand of ethics. Ultimately, what I choose to do says more about me as an ethical creature than what I tell you.

Which is why the events that transpired on the Metro yesterday are so disturbing.

On the bus, I put my headphones in, pull out a book (or my cell phone), and try to present as much of a "back off, I'm not interested in you" aura as possible. I don't really want to talk to most of the people on the bus; I'm just there to move from place to place. It's protective. The numbers of homeless, crazy, and dangerous individuals that populate my bus routes make it a safe and necessary practice.

Yesterday, I was on the bus going to work, and I was texting somebody. We were stopped at the Taco Bell on McMillan and Highland. We hadn't moved for a minute -- not unusual, if the bus is ahead of schedule, the drivers are instructed to wait before moving on so the schedule doesn't become completely discombobulated. But the bus driver was yelling. My interest piqued, I pulled out a single ear bud, wondering if I was the target of her rant (it's happened before). "This is your stop! Get off the bus!" she was yelling. I looked up and down the bus, and everyone was looking forward, but not at me.

I thought it was strange -- am I being pushed off the bus for some unknown slight against my fellow passengers?

A moment later, a man just to my right stood up. He was wearing a red shirt and jean shorts, had a few tattoos, and I had a distinct impression that, surely, this ruffian was the object of their distaste. I relaxed and popped my earbud back in and went back to texting. The whole bus was yelling -- "Man, get off the bus!" "I gotta get to work!" Thankful I was with them on this and glad to see the perpetrated leaving, I relaxed and ignored the situation.

To my left, there was a bookbag and a sleeping bag rolled up. A homeless man sat across the aisleway.

The tall ruffian with the red shirt reached down, grabbed the sleeping bag and the bookbag and threw it out the door. A second man joined him, coming all the way from the back of the bus. Here they were -- two large men (both over six feet), yelling and intimidating this homeless man, screaming for him to get off the bus, joined in a perverse chorus with the bus driver. It was a bizarre moment.

I was making an ethical decision, as I sat there. I chose to do nothing. A hundred excuses popped into my head: the guys are bigger than me and I don't want to receive their anger, what can I really do or say that would make this situation better, do I really know what's going on or am I just guessing. Did I miss something in my distraction? Had he just urinated on himself? Had he cussed out the bus driver? What was going on that was so awful?

I tweeted the situation, instead.

The two guys moved back to their seats as the homeless guy stood up; he looked angry and a little confused -- was he drunk? Then he went to the bus driver, perhaps pleading, perhaps cussing her out, and then the chorus started back up from the back of the bus -- "MAN GET OFF THE BUS!" He turned around, took one step down towards the street, and yelled something back. He took another step, flicked off the crowd, and then took the final step down to the sidewalk, where he began to gather his belongings.

The bus driver immediately shut the door, grabbed a can of Lysol, and sprayed down the seats where both he and his belongings had been. She looked at me, met my eyes, and smiled in camaraderie, "Sorry about that, sir." I'm not sure if she meant the Lysol she was soaking the seats with, or the supposed distraction the homeless man had just caused.

I should have said something to her then, but I responded to a text that came from the original tweet telling me exactly what I should have done -- "You should stick up for him."

He flicked us off as the bus pulled away, a silent retort to the ongoing harassment from the gathered masses. The next couple that came onto the bus, ladened with groceries, were directed to not sit in those seats he just vacated. Silently, I started rationalizing that perhaps he had just made a mess of his seat, and thus deserved the treatment he received.

I let my eyes train around the bus, seeing if anyone else understood. An older lady was against the window and down the aisle, and we looked at each other for a moment. She knew, too; we both knew what had just happened, and we had both done nothing. She looked down at her hands, then back out the window, dissolving back into her own "leave me the fuck alone" attitude we build up around ourselves, for our own protection. The guys were eagerly trying to watch the homeless man fall behind us as we crested the hill and he fell from view; they were laughing and applauding themselves.

"Blog it," was the next text.

Barry is the editor of the popular LGBT blog QueerCincinnati.com, and is active in the Cincinnati Twitterati as QueerCincinnati.