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Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Tales of the Bus Kind

I feel as if I’m repeating myself, with another Close Encounter of the Bus Kind so soon, but what can I do when the universe insists on throwing these things my way?

Monday morning, I collected what remained of my work ethic (having used up so very much of it Saturday) and propelled myself toward the bus. It was a typical Monday in that I sat next to a small South American woman, we smiled pleasantly at each other, and I arranged my yoga bag, lunch bag, and purse on my lap. I settled in for the short trip downtown, my iPod easing me into the work week.

It is apparent, however, even to me, in my depleted and sleep-deprived state, even before the bus stops again that the woman set to board is here to test us.

She is dancing, there on the corner of Ridiculous and Sublime. She is a very plump Brittany Spears wannabe, right down to the fedora. She steps on to the bus, singing “Ooooh, you got what I need…” She sits in the first forward-facing seat available, and her jeans, already perilously low, lower even further, and from my raised seat at the beginning of the back of the bus, both her tattoo and her thong underwear are more than just visible, they scream for attention.

There is visible recoil as every person on the bus leans back.

Even now, some hours later, I can still see the wide expanse of flesh between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her jeans.

The tattoo on her lower back (AKA “tramp stamp”) is done in characters, possibly Chinese for “this side up” or “unsafe at any speed”. The thong underwear (AKA “whale tail”) is bright pink, providing deep contrast to the blotched, pasty skin of her exposed behind.

She, of course, is unaware of any of this, and continues to dance, only now seated. I turn off my iPod and listen – from quite far back, actually – as she points out to the numerous other small South American women on the bus (who, in my experience, rarely speak or call attention to themselves in any fashion and are now actively ignoring her) how that building over there used to rent cars, baby; and baby, that bar over there has Bar Bingo on Thursday night…

Baby, baby, baby.

I look away, only to look back in time to see her pushing her earbuds into the ears of her seat mate. The poor woman is leaning away, but the Dancing Queen is not to be denied.

The intrusion is too much, however, and the poor woman takes the earbuds out, hands them back and moves to another seat.

In my head, I applaud her.

The Dancer exits stage right not long after that amidst a flurry of “have a good week, baby” and “baby, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” directed at the bus driver, who responds with “and what wouldn’t you do?” which only produces more “baby, I be seein’ you tomorrow, baby” nonsense.

Ack.

It’s official, people.

I am officially entering “My Golden Years”.

Damn kids.

17 comments:

SparkleFarkle said...

*putting on Pearl's shoes* These feel nice-- quite comfortable! In hindsight, if I had been wearing these earlier and riding that same bus, I would have asked for Brittany's autogragh. Can you imagiune what'd you'd have been able to get for that on eBay?!

powdergirl said...

Ugh, she put her earbuds into SOMEONE ELSES ears????

Jesus, next she'll be trying to get the poor South American woman to wear the pink thong on her head

Gross.

Ms Sparrow said...

Ah yes, just yesterday I saw a female teen wearing a T-shirt that said, "If my music's too loud, you're too old." Well, sweetie, the music is too loud because I haven't deafened myself with loud music!!

furiousBall said...

I can't believe you wrote this... you promised not to repeat my bus riding routine to anyone.

you better find a pants extinguisher, your pants are on fire... liar.

Tail-Kinker said...

Pearl, you should ride a bus over N.Mpls sometime--you'll get lots of stories! One night I got to see a pimp pole-dancing for his...er...woman. He had the coat, the pressed-flat and shiny curled hair, and the only thing missing was his cane. But he was the sweetest pimp I had ever seen :)

But I defend loud music! You could accuse me of being a "speaker freak" and say I play my music loud because I deafened myself hanging out in front of the speakers. But I firmly state that I play loud music to spare everyone else's ears. If it isn't loud enough, people may hear what I call singing and others call torturing cats...

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

Ugh. I hate having to see other people's underwear. The dancing I don't mind, but the underwear is too personal.

Kabbalah Rookie said...

Ugh! Earbud rape! I wonder if they all wear whale tails like that, on her planet...

Simply Suthern said...

Hey, It's Monday and she was excited? I want some of what she has, uh, not what she was show'in.

Joanie M said...

I'll take The Golden Years over that attention grabber any day of the week.

Leeuna said...

Thank heavens for grown-up pants that cover our butts. I can't imagine showing my crack to strangers...and I hate it when I have to view the cracks of others. And ewww about the ear bud thing. I would have died if someone did that to me.
I love your blog, by the way.

Madame DeFarge said...

Grateful to know that this sub-species exist in the US too. I thought it was just us who had them in our midst.

Cal's Canadian Cave of Coolness said...

I cringed the whole time I read that. There should be a vote button in the bus where if over 80% of passengers agree the offending rider gets a slap. This idea, however, didn't pass city council just like my idea to give teachers a six jolt cattle prod. Some felt that such a thing would be abused by teachers. I say we all go into the change knowing that if you use up you daily 'charge' on one kid then you can't get anymore until tomorrow. No one wants to fix the world anymore do they?

Happy Hour...Somewhere said...

Having grown up pants will not necessarily save you from a crack problem. I went to the Bonnie Hunt show and the lady sitting in front of us had on granny panties and mom pants and yet...you could see her crack. It was a horrifying sight...it had to be the longest crack I have ever seen. I kept tugging on my pants hoping my pants weren't squeezing my butt into some kind of dimpled deformity.

But it takes for a fun story.

Happy Hour...Somewhere said...

Sheesh. It MAKES for a fun story.

mrwriteon said...

What fun, such entertainment, and free, too.

Thong-girl puts me in mind of Robbie Burns:
'Wad we had the giftie gie us
to see oursels as ithers see us!'

mapstew said...

A Golden Pearl?

Blanche or Rose? :¬)

xxx

Pat said...

Just the other day I thanked my huband for passing a bicyclist (on a narow, winding mountain road) so I didn't have to see his butt crack any more.

If only that woman could see the whole episode of her shenanigans on a video.