<< Scenes from the bus. >>
2003-10-23 - 12:12 p.m.

Scene One: Romance on the 43.

A couple gets on and sits down in the seats right next to me in the rear of the bus. The man is in his late twenties, and looks and sounds a lot like Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons. The woman is in her early twenties. She sounds like Scientist Guy from the Simpsons, but is somewhat prettier. The conversation eventually reveals that he is a chemistry TA, and that she is a student in his class. My cheapass headphones choose this exact moment to stop working.

Woman (as they are climbing onto the bus): But you didn�t believe me when I said I wasn�t sick of you.

Man: Oh, indeed no, quite the opposite, I do believe you. I always accept the veracity of your statements. I was merely concerned that you were trying to spare my feelings, and that you were actually sick of me.

Woman: No, I�m not sick of you. I�ll let you know when I�m sick of you�I am a very direct person, and I always say what I mean. In fact, I am very well known for my straightforwardness. I am just wondering whether you might be asking me if I�m sick of you, because in reality, you�re sick of me. I think you might be masking your own feelings by projecting them onto me. I am further led to this conjecture by your refusal to believe that I am not sick of you.

Man: I certainly would not do that. I am simply concerned for your welfare; I do not want you to continue, as we have been proceeding in this relationship, if in fact you are sick of me.

It goes on like this for the whole half hour bus ride up Capitol Hill. At one point, a pretty young woman sitting across from the aisle from the three of us shoots me a look which suggests that she is sick of them both, and then gets out her cell phone and begins speaking French into it, loudly. Every so often, she catches my eye and laughs and laughs.

**

**

Scene Two: God on the 7.

A middle-aged man gets onto the bus, screaming into a cell phone.

�Naw, I don�t have the visions every damn day, goddammit! I mean, sometimes I see the angels. They talks to me. But I can�t just invite them over for goddamn lunch or anything. Know what I�m sayin�?�

**

**

Scene 3: Powerplay on the 9.

Passenger: Back door, please.

Busdriver: Come up to the front, sir.

Passenger: Open the back door, please.

Busdriver: Come up to the front.

Passenger: OPEN THE BACK DOOR.

Busdriver: . . .

Passenger: OPEN THE BACK DOOR, or I will get your number and report you!

Busdriver: Please come up to the front, sir.

Passenger: OPEN THE FREAKING BACK DOOR OR I WILL WORK TIRELESSLY TO MAKE SURE YOU LOSE YOUR JOB, ASSHOLE.

The back door opens.

Passenger: That�s right. That�s how you do your freaking JOB. JESUS.



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