Ahahahahaaa! Why? Why!? Without fail, when I take the bus to see my sister and I’m one of three black folks on it — and of course, I want not to be sitting next to anyone — one of the only three black people chooses to sit next to me!
You see I used to be ‘mature,’ magnanimous, civic minded. I used to say, ‘Why, I won’t rest my bag in this seat next to mine like those other meany selfish selfies. If someone wants to sit next to me they’re more than welcome. By golly, they’ve paid their fare just as I, and they deserve to feel welcome here.’
That was before a big ‘ol fat black lady sat next to me three years ago. After four hours with my bus buddy, I had no circulation in my right arm, leg and ass cheek. Fuck that shit no more! Thenceforth, I act like one of the meany selfish selfies. But do you think this old black guy on my bus to MA this time gave a flying fuck? No. “Can I sit here next to you?” He says. So I rolled my eyes and lifted my passenger repelling baggage and let the old buzzard sit. Do you know what he said to me? First of all one of my rules is never to talk to plane, bus, train, or boat mates as the energy is uselessly spent unless they’re offering me a job making lots and lots of money. He says to me, “Hi, how are you?” Motherfuck! Of course my answer was, “Arrrhggghh.” He was a nightmare, twitching and rubbing up against my arm and such. At some point he starts humming “Somewhere Over the Rainbow!”
The bus made a stop for us to get food. I got me some, he got him some then we come back to our seats. I finished eating and he looks at me and says, “It’s good after eating, you seem more awake now.” “Yeah,” I said frowning. He leans forward and peers over the seat in front of his and giggles then. He had an African accent (I’m sorry but I can’t distinguish region — he sounded like my brother-in-law who’s from Uganda — sue me!) “She’s so small.” I’m thinking, that’s funny, his saying that about a fellow passenger — I was beginning to like him. “Who?” I ask. “The bus, it starts to move but I don’t see anyone driving.” “Ohhhhh, the bus driver is small, you mean?” “Mmm hmm,” he said nodding. Now this got me laughing, hard. We became bus buddies — yay!
He told me he was from Sierra Leone, he was 63, married with two children and that he lived in Worcester. I found out also that he would be taking the Metro Boston Rail after getting off of the bus. “Me too — what do you know,” I said. Needless to say after saying bye bye now nice talking to you Gus, I ditched the shit out of him — he was old and had fifty million bags — not hard to do. I’d done enough to talk as much as I did on the bus with him — riding the train with him into Worcester would’ve been pushing it!