The Big Green House

Monday, October 06, 2003

 

Semi-magic bus

OK, that last piece was pretty weak. It wasn�t even funny, really, just kinda� weird. I get these things in my head and I gotta get �em out, one way or the other. Sometimes they go and sometimes they blow, as they say in the world of drag racing.

*shrugs shoulders*

Well, let�s move on, shall we? Let me take you on a bus ride with bmarkey and Science Girl. (Who could resist such an offer? I�m picturing you all swooning in anticipation. Careful not to hit your head on the monitor.)

We decided to take the bus from Science Manor down to Pike Place Market, to do a little shopping. Parking there, if you can find it, costs an arm and a leg. The trip took about 10-15 minutes, I�d guess, possibly as long as twenty minutes. Some times it just seems longer.

A couple of days ago, SG was out running errands. Since she doesn�t drive, and since I was at work, she took the bus. A guy got on the bus and sat in front of her, gently singing a song she almost but didn�t quite recognize. It wasn�t until he stood up and sang, �Is this my stop? Oh shit, it is!� that she realized that he was singing his thoughts. Anyway, that guy got on the bus at the same time we did. No singing this time, though, since he was with someone else.

Was I disappointed? Would a cow lick Lot�s wife?

One stop after we boarded, a young guy with one of those idiot trucker caps and a sad, lonely little mustache got on and sat down opposite us. He promptly curled up in a semi-fetal ball, with feet up on the back of the seat in front of him, got out his cell phone and, in a classic stereotypical stoner/surfer drawl, began one of the dimmest conversations I�ve ever had the misfortune of being unable to avoid overhearing.

What did stupid people do on the bus before cell phones were invented? Did they just have to ride in silence, thereby tricking the rest of the passengers into thinking that they might have more than two brain cells to rub together? Grab a clue, people � you have zero privacy on a cell phone. Don�t subject the rest of us to the emptiness of your lives, I beg of you. (At least here you can hit the Back button; sadly, that�s not an option on the bus.)

Anyway, there was a lot of rambling on about whether or not his friend had a 20-foot-long patch cord for his playstation, followed by repeated demands that the person on the other end of the line get his/her ass down to the front door and let him in. Laundry was somehow involved, too; his triumphant �I�ve got bleach� caught the attention of both SG and myself, but it was soon followed with �I�ve got bleach and laundry soap� It�s a service of the building where I live�. Really? Wow.

The woman in the blue raincoat sitting directly in front of Playstation Dude lifted her nose from her collection of Cathy comic strips several times to roll her eyes, presumably in response to his conversation. I was afraid she was going to sprain her eyeballs, so vehement was her reaction. She and her sparsely-bearded companion had been standing across the street from the bus stop for about ten minutes before the bus arrived. At first I though they were just waiting for the light to change, but they stood there through several traffic light cycles, crossing only when the bus was about a block away.

We arrived at Playstation Dude�s stop. I don�t know if he was successful in getting whoever it was off their ass and down to the front door. One can only hope.

Getting on the bus as PD left was a tall, elegant African-American woman, very well-dressed. Her companion� ah, well, let me just describe his outfit. Starting from the ground up, we had: fire-engine-red patent leather shoes; red socks; a red suit with red shirt. I couldn�t tell if he was wearing a tie, because his full-length white fur coat was blocking my view. He did, however, have a natty white hat.

Now, given this gentleman�s mode of dress, I suppose that one could jump to a lot of conclusions. If I had to guess, I�d probably say that they might have been returning from church - although I should note that most churches I�ve attended would have frowned on the crimson nature of his attire, red being the color of the devil & all. Then again, it�s been a long time since I�ve set foot in a church, so maybe things have changed. He must have been quite warm in that fur on a seventy-degree day, but since wearing fur is evil, that would only serve him right.

We reached our stop not long after that. Both of us were dying to get the other�s reaction to our fellow passengers. God only knows what they made of us.

bmarkey 10/06/2003 08:50:00 PM