Saulty and Bus Chick, last Tuesday:
Saulty: “The election isn’t today is it?”
Bus Chick: “Nope–next week.”
Saulty: “Good. I thought I forgot to vote.”
Bus Chick: “Hey, speaking of … make sure you vote for Transit Now.”
Saulty: “What’s that, and why should I care?”
Bus Chick proceeds to explain all the reasons Saulty should vote yes on Proposition 2.
Saulty: “That sounds cool. I’ll vote for it, but only if you vote no on that strip club thing.”
Deal.
It is a rainy morning, and the articulated bus is packed with soggy people. Hot breath is fogging up the windows, and coats and umbrellas are dripping water on the already slippery floor. At John, there are at least eight more people waiting to get on.
Instead of shouting at folks to make room, the driver tries a different tactic. He gets on the mic, and in his most pleasant voice, says, “If you are standing on this bus, and you are good looking, move back. If you are standing on this bus and you are not good looking, stay where you are. If you are not sure, ask the person standing next to you.”
Folks immediately get to moving back. Told you bus riders are sexy.
Post MEHVA tour, 3rd & James, southbound 4 (et al) stop:
Random dude, to me: “Ouuuuuuuuuch! Girl, you’re so pretty, it hurts.” [pause] “Why don’t you come over here and make it better?”
Perhaps our favorite bus-chick pickup artist would be willing to give him a few pointers.
Some Husky fans are coming from drowning their sorrows (if you catch my drift) at various Montlake establishments, and the bus takes on the feel of a rowdy sports bar. A bus-wide discussion ensues. Most of the participants are (drunk) middle-aged men, but a few appear to be actual students. Two are sitting at the very front, holding court.
Husky fan 1, to everyone on the bus, especially his friend, “Drunk Terry,” who is sitting near the back door: “The first half was awesome. The second half was…Husky football!”
This morning I awoke to a rather nasty nosebleed–the result, I am sure, of several days of head-cold-induced sneezing and blowing. It took some effort to stop it. Thanks to my piercing, the pinching method they taught us in elementary school isn’t quite as effective (or comfortable) as it once was.
This evening, on the 8, I sat near a boy in his early teens with a tampon (one of the non-applicator kind, of course) fitted snugly into his right nostril.
Coincidence? I don’t think so.
Because I am shy, nosy, and able to simultaneously process information from multiple sources, I am well-suited to one of my favorite bus-riding pastimes: eavesdropping. I am an expert eavesdropper. In fact, I am the Queen of Eavesdroppers. That is, as long as everyone I’m eavesdropping on is speaking English.
Despite my early plans to become a polyglot, the only foreign language I can speak well enough to claim (thanks to a few childhood years in Morocco and many years of study in the States) is French. Unfortunately, though I am able to carry on reasonable conversations, my French eavesdropping skills are pretty poor–so poor, in fact, that when I was in Paris last year, I was constantly frustrated by my inability to immerse myself in my fellow Metro riders’ business.
This morning, as luck would have it, I was presented with an unexpected chance to practice my international listening skills. Two men sitting across from me on the 545 were having a full-on French conversation, and (oh, happy bus ride!) I understood it. Funny how that language can make an otherwise uninteresting exchange about office moves and South Lake Union condo purchases sound so sophisticated and fabulous.
Oh yeah–while I was disembarking, I caught the beginning of a more typical 545 conversation:
Hipster-geek 1: “Hey man. How’s it goin’?”
Hipster geek 2: “Other than the fact that my web server crapped out compiling ASP this morning, life is good.”
Middle-school boys, on…
Fashion:
Boy 1, to Boy 2: “Your pants are hella faded. Your mom wash those or something?”
Boy 2: “You’re supposed to wash ’em.”
Boy 3: “Yeah, but you have to turn ’em inside out.”
Boy 1: “Well, it looks like she used bleach. Tell you mom not to use bleach when she washes your sh*t.”
Education:
Boy 4 (an outsider), to Boy 1: “You go to Meany?”
Boy 1: “Yeah.”
Boy 4: “I think you were in 6th grade when I was in 8th.”
Boy 1: “I didn’t go to Meany in 6th grade. I went to Triple A, but I got suspended.”
Boy 4: “Where you going next year?”
Boy 1: “Franklin or The Beach, I guess. I already know: When I go to high school, I’m getting suspended.”
Sexual orientation:
Boy 4, to Boy 1: “You have Miss Mendoza this year?”
Boy 1: “Miss Mendoza went to Mexico.”
Boy 4: “For real?”
Boy 1: “I think she left because everybody found out she was a lesbian. She told the whole class and told us not to tell anybody, but we went around and told everybody.”
Punctuality:
Boy 2, to Boy 3: “What time does first period start?”
Boy 1: “Second period started seven minutes ago.”