"The Ride Home and Day 2"

     I don't know that I'll catch the bus home at 6:30 again. I think I'll try a later bus. Last night was crowded at the stop downtown. The Pike Street stop must hub a dozen or more lines. I waited through what seemed like every other bus number but mine, and finally took another line that went to my neighborhood.

     There were no seats when I got on, and stood until about Queen Anne. After some seats opened up, I sat across from some punk rock kid with an hasidic haircut, nodding out on his grocery bag of crap, fingers swollen from all the shit mixed in with the smack he's shooting, that his liver can't process.

     The woman in front of him is complaining into her phone about not being able to find her bus pass. Loud enough for the driver to hear, maybe as a little 'heads up' for the confrontation to come.

     On Market Street, a couple of large Hispanic gentlemen board, and upon sitting, one of them starts passing out small caramel candies, one to the hasidic junkie and a couple to the Asian cats across the aisle. Thank yous, and everybody eats. It occurs to me at this moment that this is a very Seattle happening that I am witness to. In L.A. cholos aren't big on handing out candy, and even if they were, I'm not sure anyone would eat it. I almost felt left out. 

     I trudged up the hill home, already thinking about the morning ride.

     In the morning, I ran, showered, and was at the stop by 9:30. After two look-alike women passengers boarded - on different consecutive stops - a girl in the back started singing. Not to herself, or even just to her friends, but as if to the whole bus. She wasn't 'bad' but it was still just weird. It made me wonder about people that seem to seek attention in public situations. Nothing wrong with it I guess, and on some level I appreciate the confidence it shows. Still, weird.

     After the kid next to me left, an older woman, with a growth on her neck, and gray chin whiskers that would have made a China man jealous, sat in his place. A couple of stops later, she started to mumble, I thought just to herself. A little ways into her monologue, I distinctly heard her whisper,
   "...in case you didn't know that; although I have no business talking to strangers." I tried to pay attention after that, but I think she saw me listening and lowered her voice even more.

     Off at Pike, walk to work, hoping I didn't get much crazy on me.