You Come Across the Strangest People...

I work in the city. I don't live in the city. I don't want to live in the city. The occassional walkabout for lunch or an errand is enough city exposure for me. For example, just yesterday I was standing on the sidewalk @ the crosswalk awaiting the light to change. A gent walks up and is standing beside me waiting for the same. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice he kneels down. With the switness of a rattlesnake striking, he grabs something off the ground. The way he went at it, I figured it must have been a gold nugget...or at least a quarter. He stands and I notice the same hand that snatched the item of value was now placing said item in his mouth. My curiosity now piqued I turned to steal a glance. The man had picked up a cigarette stub. About 1" of tobacco remained and the fag was flattened (but not crushed) most assuredly by a shoe. When I left the man, to cross the street, he was fumbling in his pocket for a match or lighter. Whew! Now that's some serious nicotine addiction. Hope he found his light and got his fix.

Then there was the metro bus ride. Ehhh, shudder. I HATE inner city public transport! I'd rather walk. In this instance, I went along with a colleague because he knew the locale of the lucnh joint we were going to. It was somewhere in the Asian district. I didn't know...I don't live in the city. Anyway, immediately upon climbing onto the bus I was confronted with the shrieking of a young woman. She wasn't screaming at me but rather at the bus driver. It went something like this:
Young Woman: "Mr Bus Driver, will you tell her to be quiet!"
Bus Driver: Says nothing.
Other Woman: "I don't have to be quiet. Mr Driver, she's spraying something."
Bus Driver: Remains silent.
Young Woman: (To driver & Other Woman) "I was putting on some perfume. There's no law against that! Tell her!"

Oh the drama. I walked down the aisled past that and noticed my colleague pushing on seat cushions. Apparently, maybe, checking for cushion firmness. I dunno. Never got an explanation. Then there was the girl with gaudy make-up and lots of it with about a hundred holes and piercings in her face.

The list goes on. But, on my Express Commuter bus with all biz folk commuting from the rural outback, I'm the freak. In my slacks and shirt with coat, I lay a blanket across my legs. Don my bright red headphones with a skull emblem on them; listen to my Walkman and nap. Yes, I am a freak. I still have a Walkman and have yet to enter the techno mainstream.