I took the bus the whole way home last night, which is sometimes its own reward, depending on the bus ride. I have to take two buses to get to and from work, or a bus and a train on the way home, if I don't want to fuss with the connecting bus on the homeward trek. But yesterday, I decided to do the bus/bus route, as it gave me more time to write -- one of the advantages of being a writer is you don't mind being stuck in traffic, as it just means more writing time!
My connecting bus was pretty packed, and it was full of curious sorts -- there was this foreign couple, I can't be sure of their ethnicity, as their language was familiarly unfamiliar, if that makes sense (like maybe Romanian? Moroccan? Portuguese? Greek? Gypsies? I don't know). The guy was pale-skinned and bearded, and looked blandly familiar in some ineffable way -- he reminded me of some actor, not a famous one, but like a character actor. His girlfriend was exotic -- lightly tanned, square-jawed (slightly cleft chin), honey-blonde hair all braided -- like frickin' cornrows, amber eyes, and a very odd tiny cheek piercing -- like just on the upper part of the cheek, the planes of her face, this little half-inch beaded piercing, like a little line. I've never seen somebody with a piercing like that (and, as far as I could tell, only on the right side of her face). Dark eyebrows, full. She had this leonine countenance, was very striking -- like a European version of a hippie chick (better-dressed -- like colorful scarf, black slacks, white shirt). They kept talking most of the time, in their odd language. Had suitcases.
Next to them was a young guy who looked like the stand-in for Christian Bateman in "American Psycho" -- he had the tousle-haired killer preppy look going something fierce.
Next to me was a gal who saw one of her friends at the front of the crowded bus, and called her on her cell phone. That was funny for me, hearing one-half of the conversation right next to me, and seeing the friend reply at the front of the bus, but not being able to hear what she was saying. Almost performance art, really.
Standing in front of me were the Three Hipster Stooges, which was amusing -- Guy 1 (Moe) had the barely-there beard, big dark shades, dove grey sweater, jeans, and hip shoes; Guy 2 (Larry) had on pinstriped pants and a vest and a button-down shirt and a tan messenger bag (and amber-hued shades); Guy 3 (Curly) had on a gray shiny shirt and charcoal grey sweater with the sleeves rolled up, worn jeans and loafers and a dark messenger bag. It was funny watching them all strike Coolio poses as they fought for balance on the swaying bus.
Finally, there was this beautiful woman with dark brown hair, long, and a long face, lightly tanned, ice blue eyes, dressed in stylish preppy fashions (yellow Wellies, worn jeans, button-down and a rain jacket, worn leather bag) -- she was truly beautiful, looked like she could've been an airline stewardess -- like that kind of good-looking gal, like "trophy wife" kind of thing. One curious feature (hence me mentioning her at all) was that she had a scar on the left side of her face, just past the mouth, on her cheek. Who knows the story of that -- auto accident? Skiing mishap? Who knows? It probably drove her bananas, though, because she really was beautiful, and to have that amazing face scarred had to have been a real shocker -- but it was an old enough scar that she'd obviously gotten long past it. Just a curious little detail, the scarred beauty. Oh, and I think her name was Anne. I saw because she was two-fisting her telecommunication -- like an iPhone in one hand and a QWERTY cell in the other hand, and she kept alternating between them, texting on both. I saw her name on one as she was switching between communicators.
I always notice when people walk around with their ID badges hanging from their belts, too. I'd never do that, wouldn't want people knowing my name. It's like "Hey, Kevin. Howdy, Jason. Hiya, Jennifer! What's happening, Stanley?" (and their last names, too, and lord knows what else is on those photo IDs) People don't think about that, I guess. For them, it's just an ID badge. Maybe I'm just very paranoid (well, yeah), but I'd keep my ID badge out of sight until I needed it. Seeing those, I often wonder what they're doing that requires that ID badge (to his credit, Hipster Moe had his in his pocket, although the lanyard for it said TRIBUNE so the poor sod apparently works at the Trib, at least he's smart enough to keep his ID concealed). Also, as I look for new work, I wonder "Christ, am I gonna have to be sporting an ID badge on a chain, too?"
