From Here to the Bus Stop

It was 7:06 AM and it was still dark outside; not pitch black, but dark enough that you would turn your headlights on in your car. The rain poured down steadily without pausing to let him pass through as one might expect as a friendly gesture from a polite English gentleman. The rain was certainly no gentleman, no sir. Instead, the rain was a dear friend who at times would let you down by telling other people embarrassing things that he'd sworn he'd never reveal.

He walked down the dirt road behind his apartment complex somewhat slumped over, as if to say to anyone who might be watching "I give up, you won, now what?" He wondered why this dirt road existed in the middle of a major metropolitan city. The fact that it was smack in the middle of his immediate living surroundings was an incredible slap in his already swollen face. The cars that had driven down the dirt road over the years had carved large potholes which would fill with water when it rained, creating wet landmines that sat and waited for him to walk through without paying attention; which he often did.

He had an umbrella, but he rarely remembered to bring it with him. And when he did remember, he would usually leave it at work and be without it the next morning. He reached over his right shoulder with his left hand and grabbed the shoulder strap of his backpack to bring it down so that he could fish around inside the rear compartment, where he left loose change lying about. He felt around blindly for what he could tell were coins and removed a filthy handful, his fingers stained by the remnants of graphite from the various mechanical pencils who'd lived and died in the backpack. He picked out $1.65 and dumped the remainder back into the pouch. He noted that they were mostly pennies, which bothered him more than he cared to admit.

He made his way across the street after enduring the painful wait for the pedestrian green light. He wasn't in a hurry because he knew he still had a few minutes before his regular bus would arrive. He knew this because he woke a few minutes before his alarm went off. As he approached the bus stop he would try to avoid eye contact with the other passengers in waiting. He didn't want any bus friends, and he felt that the other passengers didn't want any either. He certainly did not want to impose, even if it would make the commute less painful and quite possibly his life a little more endurable.

He would notice certain 'usuals' on his bus. There was the short Asian guy who looked just like Lloyd from the show "Entourage". He knew this because his roommate watched Entourage, and he would join him in an effort to maintain a friendly environment within the two bedroom, two bath "dormroom". There was also the older black guy who looked kind of like Lionel Richie, who always wore tan pleated slacks and a lighter brown leather jacket; a very respectable early 90's outfit. The Lionel Richie lookalike carried an almost matching leather satchel slung over one shoulder which further enforced the image of an early 90's class act.

But most important was the girl who always sat in the aisle near the middle of the bus. She had medium length brown hair and kind of a snooty face. She was the kind of girl you would expect to let you get halfway through your conversation before she mentioned her boyfriend or fiance. She would derive a near sexual pleasure in knowing that she just temporarily crushed your soul. Her usual dress was a pair of tight pants, a peacoat of some sort and generally a pair of flashy boots. Her tight pants showcased a slightly large rear end that initimidated him, and he imagined that she was hiding a bountiful bosom underneath that peacoat. She usually sat next to an older woman and the two would talk non-stop during the 15 minute trip downtown. They were definitely bus friends.

Today he was feeling a bit down. The rain had been carrying on for several days now, and was starting to weigh on his otherwise optimistic spirit. For some reason, when he was 50 feet from the bus stop, he started hearing "Love Shack" inside his head. The sound of Fred Schneider's voice instantly put him in a good mood. He began to smile uncontrollably. Just then the bus pulled up. It was his lucky day. He stood patiently in line, trying desperately to conceal his smile from anyone that might be looking at him. He climbed the bus stairs, dumped his filthy mitt full of change into the change funnell, and started his trek towards the rear of the bus.

Still struggling to hold back his smile, he inconspicuously moved his eyes about the bus interior, searching for the girl. There she was, in her usual spot. He glanced away before she had a chance to look up. He was walking in slow motion down the aisle. Just when he thought it was safe he looked back in her direction. She was looking right at him. He couldn't look away, nor could he hold back his B52 smile. She smiled and continued to stare. His heart was racing. There was no one in the seat next to her. It was his chance. She seemed to guide him to the seat next to her with her eyes. He thought he could smell her perfume from 10 feet away. There were still two passengers walking in front of him. They might take the seat. Only a few more seconds and he would be there. "Just keep going" he thought to himself. "There are empty rows in the rear. Please. For the Love of God!"

The first of the two spotted a bus friend on the opposite side, and made a beeline to the rear to make friendly conversation. The second person was taking his time, but fortunately kept walking. "This is it" he thought. "This is my chance. Don't blow it." He took a big swallow, cleared his throat, glanced over his left shoulder and took a seat next to the girl. Just then he realized he wasn't wearing any pants.