Can't Spell Drug Bust Without B-U-S

This weekend I went to Philadelphia to spend some time with my brother and sister. We didn't do much, but it was still good to be in the same room with both siblings.
On Sunday afternoon, my return trip to New York was relatively uneventful, until we exited off the New Jersey Turnpike an exit sooner than we should have. The bus slowed down and someone wearing a backpack jumped off in a very seedy looking part of Jersey City (note: Does Jersey City have any non-seedy parts?). A lot of people on the bus were confused by this, gaping out the window as the gentleman jogged away.
I wasn't as shocked as my traveling companions because this same thing happened on another bus I took a year ago. At the time, I was on a bus traveling towards Philadelphia to see my brother. The driver exited the New Jersey Turnpike and was taking a more rural route - a short-cut, I thought. Until, the bus slowed down to about 5 m.p.h. and a guy jumped out of the bus and ran off towards a gas station.
I honestly don't mind being an accessory to whatever crime there is for passengers wearing backpacks and running into the jungle of Dirty Jersey. I pay $10 for a ride that keeps me on my toes, I get to hear loads of new curse words in Chinese and get a little adrenal pumping. Plus, I've always felt prepared for a hard-knock bus ride. After all, in eighth grade, I owned the Dangerous Minds soundtrack on cassette (which my mom took away from me) and I watch The Wire (not very courageously as evidenced last night by me gasping so loudly at a shooting that my sister, in the other room, burst through my door to make sure I wasn't dying in my sleep).
I just wonder how I can get a little more involved in this operation; I think I'd be the least suspicious-looking drug mule around: Cardigans? Check. Loafers with tassels? Check. Mopey indie rock on iPod? Check. Where do I sign up?