**"What happens if you are scared half to death Twice???"**---Fire Dept. Sign
I have noticed that whatever I do, no matter how basic it may seem becomes a voyage. Most of the time I am not really ready for the ride. I think I am going to wash clothes at the local laundry mat and end up putting the quarters in the wrong dryer, only to find super wet clothes an hour later. I try to eat cereal and find no milk in the house, also to learn that beer and other house hold liquids are just not the same. I move cross country to get married, and find that I am wrong, mostly because I am the male, last time I checked. Last time I checked the male is always wrong too. No matter what, just find a good way to apologize now for whatever you are thinking. I try to get out of the house and chill in town, while the kids are at school, and find adventure on the bus.
I have always found that for lack of better verbage, freaks overly enjoy talking to me. I seem to be like a neon light and attract those that others do not want to socialize with. Being from work, *it's even stated in my letter of recommendation, much more politletly---or on the bus. Any type of bus from city to the dreaded Gray Hound. People are drawn to share and talk to me. I do not ask for this attention, or usually give back respect for that manner. So I beleive it is like the highly allergic cat hater, that quickly finds himself under 32 cats and twice as many hairballs while merly attempting to visit his sickly grandma. AKA the cat lady for some reason. At many a work place, many find the need to share with me, way more than should be shared even to their shrink. I find myself in a self made delima, wondering if I should attempt to help, or sink them further into despair with my wisdom, deep thoughts, and or, sarcasm. I have been told *many a time that putting down others is a form of self defence. A very low form-at that and should make me feel even lower than low. I still can not be convinced of that fact.
I know others on the bus have worse hardships. In fact I used to ride the city bus, mainly to feel better about my own bum luck sob story. Reverse 3B's story and he gets his dog back, his girl, gets away from the morbid clown/mime, and rebuilds his porch swing. All in the same week! Not un-like that country song you played in reverse. I stopped ridding the bus before, when my story became worse than most of the people talking to me. It just wasn't as much of a self esteem boost. I can say that others come away from the bus with bad stories. But no one I know as much as myself.
I would like to use this paragraph to explain someone Else's bad story that I still, years later find amusing. If you do not find it amusing, read it again when you are drunk, I don't know how to help you. Maybe you just had to be their. My now fiance and I were riding the bus home after a bad day of job hunting. We were not officially dating at that point in time, mind you. At least in her eyes. She had just learned, in job finding classes, the importance of networking. Were the more you get your name, job preferences, skills, etc out their-the supposedly faster you will find yourself working. Few of us were still on the bus, and she decided to try her new skillz out. One decent sounding man took the bait. He might have even taking the same classes, because he had a great sounding story about having work for her etc etc. They talked for the next twenty miles or so. Suddenly his job offers went south fast and it was very obvious he wanted things from her that might make a porn star blush. She had already made it very well known that she was single, so I did not volunteer to "save the day" by being her man. And became a fly on the wall, listening to every word. For added fun, I got off the bus a stop after she did, to not look like we were going to the same house. This story has nothing to do with anything, I just like to share.
Today I would like to share a little of the "joy" of my long bus ride home today. I have written before about how long it takes to get home from Bellingham. Although on the highway it is a 30 minute drive it takes about an hour and a half on the bus to accommodate everyone. Today somewhat near home we hit a major detour. At the Birch Bay Market, after drop offs the bus usually crosses the rail road tracks. Today the cross arms were messed up and one would not go all the way back up. This made the flashing warning lights stay on. Although cars were crossing the tracks like it was going out of style, it is HIGHLY illegal for a city buss to cross tracks with any warnings flashing. This was verified as the driver tried to finger out what to do next. Apparently only a state patrol officer can officially OK a driver to cross under these conditions. *Honest, look it up. We were soon told to backtrack to Bellingham to another crossing and than eventually end up across the first tracks, without missing any stops.
I have to admit the driver tried and succeeded in making every ones now longer day better. He and the front passengers were full of actual witty banter about the miss fortune. Hoping that the small detour would not end us all up in Seattle some how! The best part was when a regular rider to Birch Bay, whom had been asleep in the back of the bus woke up. He slowly made his way to the driver as we were detouring, asking where we were going.
Some were on the detour the passenger behind me caught my eye and started telling me his sob story. He was talking to the gal beside him, but she started pretending to be busily on her cell phone until she could make her getaway at her bus stop. Like the gal, I had never met this person before. Unlike her, I had previously learned the ill effects of pretending to be on a cell phone call. I have tried to avoid others while busily talking away on the phone, only to have it start ringing an incoming call in my ear! He told novels about a girl friend that was slowly turning to crack over him. Her new love for her crack dealer over him. And how he was trying to be their for her, but ultimately he had to let her fall. *I am not making this sh*t up. I tried to stare at the floor, the celling, and my penis. But he kept talking. At most of the right times, I said "uh huh" or something equally as helpful. It really didn't matter, he kept talking and telling. At some point he got off the bus, and I have to say I am now sad that I could not help him in some way. I hope that by me just actually listening helped just a lil.
Near home the remainder riders saw a coyote by the rail road tracks. Although it was kool to see, it also tensed me up. Mostly because the animal was sooooo close to our home. A mere mile at most from were the kids played each day. Two stops down I finely got off the bus. And entered a new realm of "fun." Relatives abound that are not quite my relatives yet, but like mine do not always get along perfectly. Would I change anything if I could? I would have to say no. With all the rain filled days this week, I got out, and even saw some sunshine today. But most importantly I got out. I have a ton to think about right now, in all aspects of life. And bus time is thinking time.