This Week’s Poetic Bus Conversation:
Me: (Noticing a man approaching the bench and realizing I am sitting slightly toward the center, I scoot over to make room)
Man: (mumbling incoherently)
Me: (Thinking perhaps he has greeted me or attempted to make polite conversation or simply standard, unwelcome human contact of some kind, I do my social duty, look over and make my face smile. Wrong move. Dude has legit crazy eyes, and now I have engaged him. He is holding an empty cup, shaking his legs frantically and staring me down with his crazy, crazy eyes – like Suzanne from OITNB, which you should watch right this very second if you haven’t already. Seriously, stop reading my blog and go watch it):
Seriously, she is my hero.
Dude also has the most methy teeth of all time.
Mr. Meth: You sittin’ on that side?
Me: Yes, I’m sitting on this side.
Mr. Meth: Oh. You gonna sit on that side?
Me: Yes, I’m going to sit on this side.
Mr. Meth: Oh. Can I sit on that side?
Me: Um, sure, you can sit on this side. (I moved to switch places with him)
Mr. Meth: (Noticing the bus fare clutched in my moist, nervous, ‘please don’t force your interaction or anything more tangible on me’ hands) You goin’ somewhere with that money?
Me (thinking) – nooo, I’m just sitting at this bus stop holding this money because I’m waiting for a friendly helper to make it rain Washingtons all up on me! I will now hand you my money so you may assist me in this venture.
Me: Yes, I’m going home with my money.
Mr. Meth: You gon’ buy some drinks with that money?
Me: No, I’m just going home.
Mr. Meth: You gon’ buy some coffee?
Mr. Meth: You gon’ buy some juice?
Mr. Meth: You gon’ buy some pop?
Seriously, it was like having a conversation with this character but with 85% more meth and crazy:
Me: No, I’m just going to buy bus fare and go home.
Mr. Meth: How much bus fare?
I was becoming gradually angry. I just wanted to sit in my cone of social anxiety and pretend that everyone else was dead.
Me: (What I wanted to say…)
Me (What I actually said): $2.25
Mr. Meth: You gon’ spend all that money on bus fare?
Mr. Meth: You gon’ spend all that five dollars on bus fare?
Me: I don’t have five dollars. I just have $2.25 and I’m going to go home with it.
Mr. Meth: Where you live?
Me (Thinking): Oh, you want me to tell you where I live? Do you?
Me (what I said): Um, I live over on the west side of town.
That was the end of our conversation, but for the next 5ish minutes as I waited for my bus to arrive, Mr. Meth proceeded to mumble incoherently to himself. Occasionally he would break up these strings of nonsense by laughing loudly and maniacally, as only a crazy bus stop friend can laugh. It sounded like a mixture between Dracula’s laugh
and Jeff Goldblum’s Jurassic Park laugh, which is the most glorious sound in all of creaion:
In other news, I’m still swimming in papers, but I should be caught up by this weekend and maybe get to enjoy that elusive phantom known as a day off!
Also, a student cried in my class last week. Remember when I mentioned self-professed “emotional problems” girl? Yea.
Apparently she didn’t finish her draft on time and this upset her verily.
As I stared at her trembling lips and her moist eyes, I considered a few approaches to the situation.
First I thought about doing this:
or maybe this:
Then I considered some light mockery:
but I figured I might possibly be sued for public humiliation (this is America, land of the free, home of the people in Rascal scooters who sue McDonalds for putting them there). So instead I took my usual, gentler, infinitely-more-awkward approach to dealing with any outpouring of sadness in my presence:
And do you know what happened? As I tried to console this unwelcome hot mess, she straight up said “Ugh! I’m not in a counselor’s office!”
I wanted to say, “Seriously? You made it a counselor’s office when you strolled in here with your pale, wet face and dropped your emotional baggage all over my comfort zone!”
I wanted to slap her. I wanted to slap her more than anything in the world. Is that a healthy feeling?