This morning, after departing from the Loser Cruiser and transferring to the City Route that takes me to within one block of my job, I found myself sitting in the front seat and directly in front of a woman in her early 60s who, for reasons that will shortly become painfully obvious, will be known as The Straw. From the conversation she had with a passenger who had recently exited the bus, I surmised that she was on her way to a nursing home to visit her elderly mother.
The highlight of The Straw’s conversation with her friend was when she told him that she was receiving weekly work payments under the table, “you know, ‘hush hush,'” and some weeks when her food stamps were low, she used that money for food, but most weeks she used it for Bingo. And sometimes, she saved up for a few weeks for the “big Bingo.”
At the penultimate stop before mine, the driver parked the bus and left the engine running while he used the bathroom at the local gas station (you’ve gotta love Vermont). Now, I’ve been using the public transportation system for 6 months and I consider myself somewhat of an expert on the busses, their routes, and their passengers so I could tell instantly upon boarding this bus, that The Straw was a Bus Butterfly. In other words, she stopped at nothing to make sure she conversed with all onboard. I, on the other hand, am a Bus Beta. I want to be left alone because otherwise, I may bite your head off. An exaggeration, but you get the point.
As soon as the driver exited the bus stage right for the bathroom, leaving me alone with The Straw, I knew I was in for trouble and so naturally, I pretended to fall asleep. But The Straw was not going to be stopped this morning. After about 45 seconds of silence, she spoke up and declared in a giddy voice that would rival the voice of any toddler with chocolate, “when I get to my mother’s, I get to put my teeth back in.” Crickets. Crickets. Crickets.
At this point, I’m doing the fake, drifting-off-to-sleep, head bob; you know, like a grand piano being lowered from the 3rd floor of an apartment building, slowly but surely, my head is going down…down…down to sleep. The Straw wasn’t buying it. “I hear it’s supposed to get up to 34 today. 34! And it’s only going to get warmer for the rest of the week. We may even hit 40 on Sunday.” wait for it. wait for it. wait for it. “Why, I think we’re having a regular HEAT wave! Ha!” Crickets. Crickets. Crickets.
I pretended to wake up as soon as the driver returned and shut his door. And after the driver arrived at my stop while in the midst of a sneezing attack he blamed on his dairy allergy (“Dairy could kill me but I’ve got to have my chocolate milk!”), and as I left the bus while The Straw said, “have a good day, sir!”, I knew what had to be done.
Today, I informed my boss that I’m beginning the process of looking for a new job and asked her to be one of my references. So it begins.
Benchly'sword 