superbadgirl: (dance with the devil)
Anyone who's a frequent user of public transportation, particularly on specific bus routes, has a good chance of running into the same people over and over again. Examples for me would include Lady From The Old Country With Walker, Tiny Little Gay Man and Cuts In Front Pays With Pennies Guy. Ditto for drivers. Monday is usually Last Minute Larry, who tears around the corner and doesn't even bother pulling the bus to the curb, just waves people on from the middle of the street. Today, though, it was Don't Come On Yet I'm Not Ready Because I Like Being Late Frank.

Befuddled Woman With Briefcase is one who almost always has to run to catch the bus, and when by some miracle she's there on time, still doesn't have her pass card ready. It's as if she doesn't anticipate needing it, and has stashed it so deep within her bag she has to stand there for a long time searching for it. This morning was a standard mad dash, until another woman came from behind - a mother, lover or housekeeper - bearing a travel mug of coffee. Befuddled Woman turned, grabbed the coffee and spun back around.

This was when she spectacularly wiped out. So much so, her shoes were left behind. Coffee spilled everywhere. Mother, Lover or Housekeeper flailed her arms. Befuddled Woman gamely got back up, exchanged some words with Mother, Lover or Housekeeper and climbed on the bus. One stop later, she got off. Her trousers had giant holes in the knees. I'm fairly sure her palms were scraped.

I have to confess here that it was very difficult to stifle laughter throughout the whole affair. I know that makes me a terrible person, but it was amazing. Even now, picturing the glorious arc of coffee makes a giggle worm its way out of me.

While my head still hurts, at least I am not that lady.
superbadgirl: (bus stop)
"SHARKS! THEY'VE ESCAPED! THE SHARKS!" -- crazy navy-windbreaker, lavender-sweatpants-wearing lady at the bus stop as she ran back and forth, with a wild intensity in her eyes and an unlit cigarette clutched tightly in her hand.

Runner up:

"YOU ARE ALL MOTHERFUCKERS!" -- crazy baseball-cap-with-flaps guy at the bus stop as he ran back and forth six paces behind crazy navy-windbreaker, lavender-sweatpants-wearing lady.

Girl beside me, looking all wide-eyed and new-to-the-city: Wow, I thought they only came out after dark.
Me: Honey, crazy doesn't run on a timetable.
superbadgirl: (bus stop)
Lawsy-Loo, it just isn't my commuting week. Yesterday I had to chase the morning bus down the street and barely hopped on as it kept rolling. I pretended I was a hobo trying to get aboard a moving train. (I made this up. The bus wasn't moving, the driver just let me in the back door because he was getting ready to move.)

Tonight, I sat at the bus stop by work. And sat and sat and sat. This isn't unusual. That route is hardly reliable. Finally, after fifteen bajillion people walked by me, some guy named Jeff (he had a name badge) stopped and told me it would be, like, two hours before the route would be back to normal, on account of the crackhead who plowed into a gas pump up on E. Roy. I think one must have to be really high to be unable to avoid speeding up and taking out a gas pump. Anyway, you cannot tell me one of those other fourteen people walking away from the scene of the crime didn't know the scoop and couldn't have shared it with me. Jeff admired my tattoo and made me uncomfortable as he walked me back to the office, regaling me with stories of his arthritic hips which he got from too much bike riding.

I fled Jeff, grabbed a pair of sneakers from my office closet (ha ha, mock me now, you shoe-mockers!) and walked to Broadway and E. John. Got on the #8, tripped over a tenant from my former employer, the Vermin Inn, avoided chit chat with him, made a pit stop at Bartell's in Lower QA, barely hopped on the #2x, where I accidentally sat on some guy's lap. Awkward apologies were exchanged, and the very second he was able he moved seats. I was finally home free.

Theme song: Take The Long Way Home. Wheeeee, Supertramp!

On the plus and totally unrelated side, I had a fabulous hair day today. The mile or so walk didn't destroy it, either.
superbadgirl: (bus stop)
I think I'm feeling better. I'm weary of waking up tired everyday, but I can roll out of bed without a pervading sense of dread. My fingernails have a strange line in them.

Monday night, I was ten steps away from the bus stop when the blasted #49 rolled by, leaving me in the dust.

Last night, I was ten steps away and running for the bus stop when the blasted #49 rolled by. Loser bus driver did not even pretend to see me, though I would think it impossible to misinterpret someone running pell-mell for the stop as the bus approaches. I am so peeved about it that I'll probably leave work early just to make sure I freaking catch the bus I want.

Also last night, I was approached by a panhandler down on 3rd and Pine. It's not uncommon. I find it quite interesting to see whom they target - some will ask anyone, but there are others who are very specific in whom they hit up for cash. Anyway, this panhandler, a sweet young thing, came up to me with a lit cigarette in her hand. She asked if I'd buy it off of her for a quarter, followed by a commensurate sob story. WHAT? That was a new one. Even if I was a smoker, why on Earth would I buy an already lit cigarette? Double gross. I think she counted on someone giving her money, no cigarette exchange required.

I got on the #2, which was full as per usual, but not as bad as it could have been. There are times that thing is packed like a fucking sardine can. After the last downtown stop, a seat opened up. I grabbed it because no one else did. Getting there, I tripped over some dude's foot. This guy was HUGE, so the foot was difficult to miss. Had to be at least 6'6" and build like a workhorse. (Picture Lennie Small.) At his stop, he reached under the seat and pulled out an Igloo cooler as massive as he, bumping my legs as he did. He leaned close to me and said with a shy smile and a shrug, "My lunch." It amused me for reasons I can't quite put into writing.

Passenger Song by Great Lake Swimmers seems appropriate here. Is it bad that I love it for only one line, and it's not a particularly good line: "Right you are right you are right you are right...". I simply love the delivery.

Also, someone here at work made off with my scissors. Stole it right out of my desk drawer. I'm mortally offended.
superbadgirl: (alec wtf)
Ugh. As much as I kvetch about the Board of Directors meetings, I hate the Church Architecture meetings even more. It took them two hours this afternoon to recommend what had already BEEN recommended two months ago.

And then at the bus stop, some weird twitchy little guy saw a bus go by that said "to trm" on it and he proceeded to ask me what that meant.

Him: What's to trm mean?
Me: To terminal.
Him: What does that mean?
Me: It means that bus is no longer in service.
Him: Well, where does it go?
Me: I don't really know.
Him: It has to go somewhere, right?
Me: Well, yeah, but I don't know any more than I've told you: that the bus is no longer in service.
Him: But where does it GO?
Me: OMG, step back or I'm going to harm you.
superbadgirl: (alec wtf)
Ah, that experience never gets old. ::rolls eyes::

Drunk/high guy just wouldn't take my icy silence as an answer to his annoying come-ons and questions. After he whistled at me (much as one does to call a dog), I glared at him.

"Hey, baby, what's you're name?"
"It doesn't matter."
(Here's where he stumbled over)
"Aww, it matters to me. You're beautiful."
"And if you weren't a skeeze, I'd be very flattered by that."

I hate it when guys like that get all up on me...ew. I need to take some self defense classes, so next time this happens I'll be able to do some harm. Thank goodness the bus arrived. It didn't look like anyone else at the stop was going to step in and help get the guy away from me.
superbadgirl: (dean DT)
I sat at the bus stop yesterday, same as always. It wasn't overly warm, but I was in the sun and had walked a mile and so was wearing a tank top. Nothing revealing or anything, just a simple tank top.

Also as usual, I avoided eye contact with everyone, though I did glance up at passers by. One guy totally veered from his path and got real close to me...then proceeded to arch his neck so he could get a view right down my shirt! WTF was that? I can't complain too much about stares if what I'm wearing does reveal cleavage, but dude totally crossed the line.


superbadgirl: (Default)

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