Willie Nelson sang quietly to me. I know, I was always on your mind.
He moved from near the front of the bus to the seat directly behind me. He looked a little disheveled, and I wondered if he had a safe place to call home. As he sat behind me, I could faintly smell the smell of street and stale booze.
“Excuse me Miss, Do you have the time.”
I removed my headphones and answered his question.
“Thank you, and Merry Christmas”
I returned his salutation. Approximately 15 seconds later, he had another question for me.
“Excuse me miss, does this bus go to Dartmouth.”
Again, I respond.
”Thank you, and Merry Christmas”.
Fifteen more seconds pass, and now he wants to know if I will let him know when we’re in Dartmouth. I tell him that I’m not going to Dartmouth, but the bus will soon cross the bridge. Seconds later, he asks me again if the bus goes to Dartmouth.
The big black guy sitting across the isle looked at me with a look that equal combined sympathy, concern, and a “Don’t worry, I’ve got you’re back” kind of look. I made eye contact with him. I wondered if the look on my face was feeble, worried or a plea for help. It was then he spoke,
“Why don’t you stop bull-shitting the lady. Leave her alone. You know damn well where you’re going. You do this all alone. I don’t want you to bother the lady. Stop bull-shitting her.”
The other guy tried to defend his position and speak but my defender wouldn’t hear of it. As for me, I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to thank the chivalrous efforts of the stranger? Was I supposed to defend the slightly annoying, yet harmless banter of the man behind me? This didn’t seem like an opportune time to attempt to defend my own self when I didn’t even know if I needed defending. Not knowing, I tossed a half smile in the general direction of both of the men. I put my Ipod away, and clutched my cell phone as if to say, I have a lifeline.
I sat quietly as the bus barreled down Gottigen Street. The only sound I heard was the man breathing behind me. It was paced with an undertone of congestion, and sounded like he had potentially drifted off to sleep. I didn’t turn around to check. Finally, it was my turn to pull the chord and exit the bus. Thankfully, neither man followed me. I got off the bus just before it crossed the bridge. I wondered if anyone would wake him up to tell him that he made it Dartmouth. Or was he really bull-shitting this lady?
He moved from near the front of the bus to the seat directly behind me. He looked a little disheveled, and I wondered if he had a safe place to call home. As he sat behind me, I could faintly smell the smell of street and stale booze.
“Excuse me Miss, Do you have the time.”
I removed my headphones and answered his question.
“Thank you, and Merry Christmas”
I returned his salutation. Approximately 15 seconds later, he had another question for me.
“Excuse me miss, does this bus go to Dartmouth.”
Again, I respond.
”Thank you, and Merry Christmas”.
Fifteen more seconds pass, and now he wants to know if I will let him know when we’re in Dartmouth. I tell him that I’m not going to Dartmouth, but the bus will soon cross the bridge. Seconds later, he asks me again if the bus goes to Dartmouth.
The big black guy sitting across the isle looked at me with a look that equal combined sympathy, concern, and a “Don’t worry, I’ve got you’re back” kind of look. I made eye contact with him. I wondered if the look on my face was feeble, worried or a plea for help. It was then he spoke,
“Why don’t you stop bull-shitting the lady. Leave her alone. You know damn well where you’re going. You do this all alone. I don’t want you to bother the lady. Stop bull-shitting her.”
The other guy tried to defend his position and speak but my defender wouldn’t hear of it. As for me, I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to thank the chivalrous efforts of the stranger? Was I supposed to defend the slightly annoying, yet harmless banter of the man behind me? This didn’t seem like an opportune time to attempt to defend my own self when I didn’t even know if I needed defending. Not knowing, I tossed a half smile in the general direction of both of the men. I put my Ipod away, and clutched my cell phone as if to say, I have a lifeline.
I sat quietly as the bus barreled down Gottigen Street. The only sound I heard was the man breathing behind me. It was paced with an undertone of congestion, and sounded like he had potentially drifted off to sleep. I didn’t turn around to check. Finally, it was my turn to pull the chord and exit the bus. Thankfully, neither man followed me. I got off the bus just before it crossed the bridge. I wondered if anyone would wake him up to tell him that he made it Dartmouth. Or was he really bull-shitting this lady?
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