656d 2177 000a (rakastaa) wrote in bastardpeople,
656d 2177 000a

bus no. 54

downtown seattle. the sky is grey. what's falling from the sky you couldn't cassify it as rain--more of an annoying drizzle.

i was on one of the buses affectionately known as a ghetto bus. it looked like hell. it wasn't one of the fancy new buses like the ones that go through the nice neighbourhoods.

the people in the back of the bus are the usual suspects. a couple of gansta thugs in the back, the drunk, the child molester looking guy, the suit, the old woman who talks to herself too loudly, the shmindie kid, you get the idea.

so i'm sitting back there wishing i'd brought some zines with me when this old women gets on the bus. the first thing i notice about her is her eyes set far apart on her face. her skin was as wrinkled as a raisin. i would have thought nothing further of her if it hadn't been for the two items she was carrying. the items were not unusual in and of themselves but combined together and under the circumstance it did cause some heads to turn.

'nice skateboard,' the child molester called out in a leering manner as the drunk leaned over to the suit and asked loudly, 'what's the bucket for?'

had i been the suit i would have said, 'you.'

if the old women heard any of the comments she didn't show it. instead she proceeded toward the seat directly in front of me.

she placed the skateboard down upon the seat and sat down on it. the bucket she placed over her head. she proceeded to make motions with her hands as if she were riding a scooter. a lambretta shall we say or perhaps a vespa?

that's when things got weird.

as the bus moved again toward west seattle the people outside the bus would take one look at this old women with a bucket on her head and then proceed to look at me. same with the people in the bus. they would look at this old women and then look at me.

why was everybody looking at me???

i was just sitting there the same as everyone else. i was an innocent stybander i tell you. but no, for some reason everyone looked at me as if i had somehow orchestrated this whole event.

(this actually happened to a friend of mine but it sounds better in the first person. luckily, i ride the notorious 358 now so i should have a lot of stories to tell.)
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