Thursday, September 30, 2004
Is That a Thumb in Your Mouth, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?
Tonight I waited to catch a Southbound 12/6/28 bus near 4th & Hennepin. A 61 breezed by; it was near the end of its route & ready to head toward the bus garage. As the 61 blew past the bus stop and stopped at the stoplight, a kind of student-y looking 30-ish guy emerged from the bus shelter next to me and ran toward the bus, waving his arms and yelling "Wait! Wait!".
A few seconds later he returned to the bus stop, looking a little out of breath and a bit dejected. Clearly he was not familiar with the 61's route. Whatever; sometimes I feel like half my time on buses is spent listening to riders quizzing drivers about their routes. (Every freaking day someone asks the driver of my 6 Downtown bus if indeed they go downtown. Either the general populace is not as bright as I imagine, or the giant "6 DOWNTOWN" flashing on the front of the bus is only visible to those of us possessing monthly passes.)
Anyway, the guy returns to the bus stop. He's got both hands up near his mouth. As first I think he's lighting a cigarette, or maybe smoking a bowl. Oh I see, he must be playing a harmonica. He's just too far away for me to hear it - thank goodness.
Guy heads into the shelter to check out the posted schedule and returns a few minutes later to sit on the bench behind which I am standing. Although I am happily reading my printout of the Veronica Mars recap from Television Without Pity, I am distracted from my reading enjoyment when I notice the guy still has a hand near his mouth.
I kid you not - He is sucking his thumb.
He is sucking his thumb in public. On the curb of one of the busiest streets in town.
I don't know whether to mock or pity this poor guy.
A few seconds later he returned to the bus stop, looking a little out of breath and a bit dejected. Clearly he was not familiar with the 61's route. Whatever; sometimes I feel like half my time on buses is spent listening to riders quizzing drivers about their routes. (Every freaking day someone asks the driver of my 6 Downtown bus if indeed they go downtown. Either the general populace is not as bright as I imagine, or the giant "6 DOWNTOWN" flashing on the front of the bus is only visible to those of us possessing monthly passes.)
Anyway, the guy returns to the bus stop. He's got both hands up near his mouth. As first I think he's lighting a cigarette, or maybe smoking a bowl. Oh I see, he must be playing a harmonica. He's just too far away for me to hear it - thank goodness.
Guy heads into the shelter to check out the posted schedule and returns a few minutes later to sit on the bench behind which I am standing. Although I am happily reading my printout of the Veronica Mars recap from Television Without Pity, I am distracted from my reading enjoyment when I notice the guy still has a hand near his mouth.
I kid you not - He is sucking his thumb.
He is sucking his thumb in public. On the curb of one of the busiest streets in town.
I don't know whether to mock or pity this poor guy.
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Buses and Band-Aids
I took the 28 out to the mall today. Not the wisest use of time as the Sunday schedule is rather limited, but I needed to buy new work clothes and the mall has the largest concentration of stores selling such items. What can you do?
On the way out of the mall I stopped and bought a bottle of water, parched as I was from a couple hours of fruitless searching for a new suit. As I left the mall I saw a 6U in the process of boarding. Serendipity! Quickening my step, I headed toward the bus. Unfortunately I caught the edge of my shoe on the crack between squares of sidewalk. My left ankle faltered and down I went. I landed not only on my right knee and elbow, but also on the bottle of water in my left hand. As the water skidded under my weight across the rough pavement, the bottle tore open a hole and spurted out all over the sidewalk.
I got up, limped back to the entrance to toss the remnants of my beverage into the garbage and then hobbled my way to the bus. I managed to keep from crying until I was actually on the bus. The entire 45 minute ride home was spent with tissue in hand, alternately dabbing at my bleeding knee and elbow and the tears in my eyes.
At no time did any of the dozen or so people sitting at the bus stop (watching me wipe out) nor the 20 or so people on the bus offer help, or even ask if I was okay.
Bastards.
On the way out of the mall I stopped and bought a bottle of water, parched as I was from a couple hours of fruitless searching for a new suit. As I left the mall I saw a 6U in the process of boarding. Serendipity! Quickening my step, I headed toward the bus. Unfortunately I caught the edge of my shoe on the crack between squares of sidewalk. My left ankle faltered and down I went. I landed not only on my right knee and elbow, but also on the bottle of water in my left hand. As the water skidded under my weight across the rough pavement, the bottle tore open a hole and spurted out all over the sidewalk.
I got up, limped back to the entrance to toss the remnants of my beverage into the garbage and then hobbled my way to the bus. I managed to keep from crying until I was actually on the bus. The entire 45 minute ride home was spent with tissue in hand, alternately dabbing at my bleeding knee and elbow and the tears in my eyes.
At no time did any of the dozen or so people sitting at the bus stop (watching me wipe out) nor the 20 or so people on the bus offer help, or even ask if I was okay.
Bastards.
Friday, September 03, 2004
No More Lemon Slices Ever!!!
Let me begin by saying that I am a cell phone owner. Unlike many cell owners, I do not carry mine 24/7. Unless I am out alone at night or in a situation where it is imperative that I am accessible (i.e. a friend or relative is ready to give birth, Grandpa is having surgery, John Cusak told me he’d call to confirm plans for our date tonight, etc.), I leave the cell at home. So while I appreciate and utilize the technology, I do not abuse nor am addicted to it.
That being said, I am ready to snark on the idiocy of a cell phone user.
Waiting for a South-bound 28 at Hennepin & 5th early this afternoon, I observed a man talking on his cell phone. A rather portly, middle-aged man. Slightly rumpled in appearance; baggy Levis barely holding on underneath his protruding belly, camp shirt in desperate need of a good ironing, wearing Chester the Molester square-lenses wire-rimmed glasses. He made several calls, all seemingly pointless (“Hi, how’reya doing? Just called to say hi. Blah blah blah.”) except to prove that he’s cool. Why? Because he owns a cell phone. And has apparently missed the memo informing him that pretty much everyone else does too.
Our cell phone chatting friend boarded the bus a few passengers behind me still nannering on with his cool-proving conversation. Upon boarding the bus, he immediately raised his voice in the way that so many annoying public-transit riding cell users do. I will now recount for you the one-sided conversation my fellow bus riders and I were prisoner to hearing:
“Mom, if I did something wrong, I apologize. I never meant to get you in trouble.”
Slight pause.
“But Mom, I told her I DID NOT WANT LEMONS IN MY ICED TEA!”
Another slight pause.
“Mom, I never told said to her ‘Don’t put any Goddamn lemons in my iced tea!!!!’ I asked her to please not put lemons in my iced tea.
Yet another slight pause after which Mr. Cellphone pleaded with a catch in his voice.
“But she brought me iced tea with a lemon slice in it!”
At this point, the older woman across the aisle from me turned around and yelled “Will you shut up!!!! Nobody wants to hear about your silly life!”
Totally awesome.
That being said, I am ready to snark on the idiocy of a cell phone user.
Waiting for a South-bound 28 at Hennepin & 5th early this afternoon, I observed a man talking on his cell phone. A rather portly, middle-aged man. Slightly rumpled in appearance; baggy Levis barely holding on underneath his protruding belly, camp shirt in desperate need of a good ironing, wearing Chester the Molester square-lenses wire-rimmed glasses. He made several calls, all seemingly pointless (“Hi, how’reya doing? Just called to say hi. Blah blah blah.”) except to prove that he’s cool. Why? Because he owns a cell phone. And has apparently missed the memo informing him that pretty much everyone else does too.
Our cell phone chatting friend boarded the bus a few passengers behind me still nannering on with his cool-proving conversation. Upon boarding the bus, he immediately raised his voice in the way that so many annoying public-transit riding cell users do. I will now recount for you the one-sided conversation my fellow bus riders and I were prisoner to hearing:
“Mom, if I did something wrong, I apologize. I never meant to get you in trouble.”
Slight pause.
“But Mom, I told her I DID NOT WANT LEMONS IN MY ICED TEA!”
Another slight pause.
“Mom, I never told said to her ‘Don’t put any Goddamn lemons in my iced tea!!!!’ I asked her to please not put lemons in my iced tea.
Yet another slight pause after which Mr. Cellphone pleaded with a catch in his voice.
“But she brought me iced tea with a lemon slice in it!”
At this point, the older woman across the aisle from me turned around and yelled “Will you shut up!!!! Nobody wants to hear about your silly life!”
Totally awesome.
