So when I take the later bus there are always a bunch of junior high/freshmen girls on the bus. And they annoy the crap out of me. I know that it is their age, and blah blah blah, I worked with junior high girls all summer. These girls are just little shits.
For example, one of my favorites is the girl who is sitting in one of those double seats, and her bag is sitting on the seat next to her, while there are people standing. When you look at her to see if she will move her bag she kinda gives you the "what the fuck?!?!" look and doesn't move her bag.
Then there are the two girls that sit together in the back of the bus, giggling, and talking about all the major woes in their life. They are wearing corrdinating outfits (as in, similar jeans, shirts, shoes and hairstyles) complete with the slicked-back, too-much product pony tails. And they also make fun of this slightly dorky, shy guy who gets off at the same stop as them. I assume they know him, because they often shove him when he is waiting for the doors to open.
And of course, there is the third type of girl, the one who cannot disconnect from her cell phone for two minutes, and is either constantly talking or texting. And when she is talking, again, her life is really tragic and woeful... usually mom and dad are threatening something terrible, like reducing her minutes or taking away some privilage that she has been granted.
All of these girls have also mastered the staredown-you-are-so-below-me look. Awesome. I love being belittled by 13 year olds.
The bus maintains my perception and image of the classic middle school girl, while also annoying the crap out of me. WoOt.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
"Did that hurt?"
So, Friday was an interesting day for me on the bus, for many reasons.
First of all, I took the later, busier bus, thereby missing my normal peeps, but I'm starting to recognize some of these new dudes. BJ, the plumber dude is on everyday...
But so anyway, I was minding my own business, per usual, but sitting in a different spot than normal. I was on the first normal row of seats (there are the horizontal seats that fold up for wheelchairs). And there was a slightly older gentleman who was sitting on one of the horizontal seats right in front of me. He kept looking at me, and I just kinda ignored him, because that is just what one does in on the bus.
ANYWAY... Just as we're both about to get off, he leans closer to me and says "I just had to let you know that you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen..." And it made me feel good to kinda/sorta start my day that way... then I got to work. yuck.
And on my way home, I was being a rebel, and decided to put in my real lip ring before I left the office for the day (a first, usually I wait until I get home). And I'm pissed because I had to stop and get my paycheck (didn't piss me off) but I lost my bus pass so I had to wait in line FOREVER at Albertson's while people were doing money orders, which caused me to just miss the bus that would drop me 1.5 miles closer to the apartment... arg!
But, I managed to catch the bus that I normally take home, and sat near the back, and was about to put on my headphones when I hear "did that hurt?" I kinda ignore it, when i hear it again, "did that hurt?"
It was one of the two guys in the back section of the bus with me... He is gesturing to his lip... Oh, they are talking to me! And so starts a three way conversation about body piercings, gauge piercings and tattoos. Both of the guys looked to be in their mid-to-late forties, and it was an awesome conversation. We talked about the social stigmatisim, how it is starting to disappear, among many other things.
It made me feel good, and I actually made two real bus friends.
And then I got off the bus and realized I had two flat tires on my bike. :(
First of all, I took the later, busier bus, thereby missing my normal peeps, but I'm starting to recognize some of these new dudes. BJ, the plumber dude is on everyday...
But so anyway, I was minding my own business, per usual, but sitting in a different spot than normal. I was on the first normal row of seats (there are the horizontal seats that fold up for wheelchairs). And there was a slightly older gentleman who was sitting on one of the horizontal seats right in front of me. He kept looking at me, and I just kinda ignored him, because that is just what one does in on the bus.
ANYWAY... Just as we're both about to get off, he leans closer to me and says "I just had to let you know that you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen..." And it made me feel good to kinda/sorta start my day that way... then I got to work. yuck.
And on my way home, I was being a rebel, and decided to put in my real lip ring before I left the office for the day (a first, usually I wait until I get home). And I'm pissed because I had to stop and get my paycheck (didn't piss me off) but I lost my bus pass so I had to wait in line FOREVER at Albertson's while people were doing money orders, which caused me to just miss the bus that would drop me 1.5 miles closer to the apartment... arg!
But, I managed to catch the bus that I normally take home, and sat near the back, and was about to put on my headphones when I hear "did that hurt?" I kinda ignore it, when i hear it again, "did that hurt?"
It was one of the two guys in the back section of the bus with me... He is gesturing to his lip... Oh, they are talking to me! And so starts a three way conversation about body piercings, gauge piercings and tattoos. Both of the guys looked to be in their mid-to-late forties, and it was an awesome conversation. We talked about the social stigmatisim, how it is starting to disappear, among many other things.
It made me feel good, and I actually made two real bus friends.
And then I got off the bus and realized I had two flat tires on my bike. :(
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The New Yorker
Okay, I realize that I fell of the face of the planet, and hopefully that will be the end of that, and I will become a much more dedicated blogger, as I learn to adjust my time more successfully here in ABQ.
I have quite a few stories saved up, but I'm thinking maybe I'll go with shorter entries, daily.
Today, I want to talk about a man that I see when I take the later of the morning buses to work (sometimes I want to sleep in, sometimes I hit too many red lights, and sometimes I am just fat and bike slow, so I miss the earlier one).
This man looks to be in his late 60s or early 70s. He often wears those awesome super faded jeans, but usually has a pretty nice, clean shirt on, with a fleece or something over it. His hair is decidedly gray, and he has a rather thick mustache. He always has his briefcase/messenger bag with him. His bag is old, dirty and a little torn. When I look at him, I always expect that he will pull out some beaten up old magazine, a faded murder mystery novel, or maybe even a tattered newspaper. I always expect the reading material he is about to pull out to be dirty and tattered.
Instead, he pulls out a used, gray three-ring binder. Inside of the front pocket of this binder are carefully placed and protected articles printed off from the internet. There is usually at least one from The New Yorker everyday, and others that look to be scholarly in nature. His tends to favor political pieces. When I see him reading these articles everyday on the bus I image that he is a learned college professor, or perhaps a retired high school history teacher, who prefers to save the world one car trip at a time.
I don't know anything about this man. He could be nice, intelligent and well rounded, or he could be mean and sharp and hold the world and its youth in judgment. But I like to think of him as a sweet older man, and feel a sort of strange-stranger connection to him. We will probably never speak, and I'm sure he doesn't notice me like I notice him, but in the sea of who rides the bus, its nice to see someone cares about world news.
He is my ally, whether he knows it or not.
I have quite a few stories saved up, but I'm thinking maybe I'll go with shorter entries, daily.
Today, I want to talk about a man that I see when I take the later of the morning buses to work (sometimes I want to sleep in, sometimes I hit too many red lights, and sometimes I am just fat and bike slow, so I miss the earlier one).
This man looks to be in his late 60s or early 70s. He often wears those awesome super faded jeans, but usually has a pretty nice, clean shirt on, with a fleece or something over it. His hair is decidedly gray, and he has a rather thick mustache. He always has his briefcase/messenger bag with him. His bag is old, dirty and a little torn. When I look at him, I always expect that he will pull out some beaten up old magazine, a faded murder mystery novel, or maybe even a tattered newspaper. I always expect the reading material he is about to pull out to be dirty and tattered.
Instead, he pulls out a used, gray three-ring binder. Inside of the front pocket of this binder are carefully placed and protected articles printed off from the internet. There is usually at least one from The New Yorker everyday, and others that look to be scholarly in nature. His tends to favor political pieces. When I see him reading these articles everyday on the bus I image that he is a learned college professor, or perhaps a retired high school history teacher, who prefers to save the world one car trip at a time.
I don't know anything about this man. He could be nice, intelligent and well rounded, or he could be mean and sharp and hold the world and its youth in judgment. But I like to think of him as a sweet older man, and feel a sort of strange-stranger connection to him. We will probably never speak, and I'm sure he doesn't notice me like I notice him, but in the sea of who rides the bus, its nice to see someone cares about world news.
He is my ally, whether he knows it or not.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
I am learning a lot
I apologize to my... three? readers that I didn't write yesterday. I was a little disturbed and worried about my friends back in Samoa, which has been devastated by an earthquake and tsunami... Luckly they are all fine, shook up and scared, but fine. They are planning on volunteering this weekend when they don't have class. Yay them!
But in other news, back to the bus... yesterday I took the later bus again because I didn't want to get up, and I discovered that although I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn, I actually prefer the earlier one because there are less people.
So this afternoon on the bus I learned a lot about the transmission of the flu from a nice, elderly white gentleman. Apparently, it doesn't matter if you never wash your hands, or if you lick them for that matter because the flu can only pass through mucus, which can only be passed if you sneeze into someone's mouth or kiss them. He, of course, was talking about H1N1, "the swine flu," but then also about the flu in general. Such a relief to know that unless I make out with someone, I will not be getting the flu (so I guess no flu for me this year)... which also raises concerns about the youth of the world. Meh, best not to dwell on details, right?
I have also decided that I'm a "safe" person to sit with, because when the bus starts to get a little bit fuller, and people are actually having to sit next to someone, the middle aged white ladies who look really uncomfortable sit next to me. So not too many up close and personal interactions with the worlds worst assortment of facial hair. Sick, perhaps I shall save that one for another day.
Off to bed for my butt crack of dawn awakening and bike ride!
But in other news, back to the bus... yesterday I took the later bus again because I didn't want to get up, and I discovered that although I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn, I actually prefer the earlier one because there are less people.
So this afternoon on the bus I learned a lot about the transmission of the flu from a nice, elderly white gentleman. Apparently, it doesn't matter if you never wash your hands, or if you lick them for that matter because the flu can only pass through mucus, which can only be passed if you sneeze into someone's mouth or kiss them. He, of course, was talking about H1N1, "the swine flu," but then also about the flu in general. Such a relief to know that unless I make out with someone, I will not be getting the flu (so I guess no flu for me this year)... which also raises concerns about the youth of the world. Meh, best not to dwell on details, right?
I have also decided that I'm a "safe" person to sit with, because when the bus starts to get a little bit fuller, and people are actually having to sit next to someone, the middle aged white ladies who look really uncomfortable sit next to me. So not too many up close and personal interactions with the worlds worst assortment of facial hair. Sick, perhaps I shall save that one for another day.
Off to bed for my butt crack of dawn awakening and bike ride!
Monday, September 28, 2009
The winds have begun...
So, today I missed my normal bus, due to the extreme winds that made me feel like it was my first day on the bike going up those hills. Oy. But, the benefit of missing my normal bus is I got to take a different bus, with some new peeps.
Firstly, I want to assure you that the personal bubble is STRONGLY in place. As in, no one would sit on the seat next to someone else. Instead, they preferred to stand in the aisle than sit next to someone. Also, there was a larger assortment of people on this bus... A slightly elderly lady reading her large print library book, seemingly oblivious to the world until her stop sat in the front seat. The cheerleader who spent a good 10 minutes applying eye make-up below her overly sculpted and plucked eyebrows was in the middle, a middle-aged latina woman wearing very sturdy black shoes sat disinterested near the window, and the 9th grade boy with his graffiti styled black shoes (which matched his saggy black pants, black shirt, and black, off tilted baseball cap) was too cool to merely stand in the aisle, but had to be as close to the front as possible, leaning causally on the bar, getting in everyone's way as they tried to exit the bus. And lets not forget the resturant workers, older bums, with long hair in a messy pony, and scragaly beard and the very large white guy in a giant jean jacket covered in patches that got on with me... don't know what was up with him. But, my personal favorite of my morning commute was the man who got on near the end of my ride in a pair of coveralls, you know they type, dark blue, with the name tag attached... His name, according to the attached and embrodered nametag was BJ. And yes, I did giggle.
I find the collectiong of people on the bus so ineresting... everyone trying their hardest to seem disinterested and absorbed in themselves, but still causually peeking at everyone around them.
This afternoon was an entirely different story. I finally got to learn the name of my first offical bus friend. As in, the first person on the bus that I talk to on a semi-regular basis. His name is Jonathan. He moved to Albuquerque in 1988 from Ohio. He works in a warehouse, and gets on the bus at the same stop as me in the afternoons. According to a text message that I accidentally read over his shoulder this afternoon, he "hat my fucking ..." I assume it is either life or job. He was not pleased with his job when we finally exchanged names this afternoon. But more interestingly about my afternoon ride was the woman with the messanger bag...
oy. too much. Perhaps I will write about her tomorrow.
wish me luck on catching my bus tomorrow!
Firstly, I want to assure you that the personal bubble is STRONGLY in place. As in, no one would sit on the seat next to someone else. Instead, they preferred to stand in the aisle than sit next to someone. Also, there was a larger assortment of people on this bus... A slightly elderly lady reading her large print library book, seemingly oblivious to the world until her stop sat in the front seat. The cheerleader who spent a good 10 minutes applying eye make-up below her overly sculpted and plucked eyebrows was in the middle, a middle-aged latina woman wearing very sturdy black shoes sat disinterested near the window, and the 9th grade boy with his graffiti styled black shoes (which matched his saggy black pants, black shirt, and black, off tilted baseball cap) was too cool to merely stand in the aisle, but had to be as close to the front as possible, leaning causally on the bar, getting in everyone's way as they tried to exit the bus. And lets not forget the resturant workers, older bums, with long hair in a messy pony, and scragaly beard and the very large white guy in a giant jean jacket covered in patches that got on with me... don't know what was up with him. But, my personal favorite of my morning commute was the man who got on near the end of my ride in a pair of coveralls, you know they type, dark blue, with the name tag attached... His name, according to the attached and embrodered nametag was BJ. And yes, I did giggle.
I find the collectiong of people on the bus so ineresting... everyone trying their hardest to seem disinterested and absorbed in themselves, but still causually peeking at everyone around them.
This afternoon was an entirely different story. I finally got to learn the name of my first offical bus friend. As in, the first person on the bus that I talk to on a semi-regular basis. His name is Jonathan. He moved to Albuquerque in 1988 from Ohio. He works in a warehouse, and gets on the bus at the same stop as me in the afternoons. According to a text message that I accidentally read over his shoulder this afternoon, he "hat my fucking ..." I assume it is either life or job. He was not pleased with his job when we finally exchanged names this afternoon. But more interestingly about my afternoon ride was the woman with the messanger bag...
oy. too much. Perhaps I will write about her tomorrow.
wish me luck on catching my bus tomorrow!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
ABQ RIDES
In an effort to both document, and enjoy the daily commute that I make to work on the bus in Albuquerque, NM I've decided to start posting about my experiences. Nothing too much, just little stories here and there about the people I see and meet... And maybe some fun stories about work and life.
To begin, I have been riding the bus for nearly a full two weeks now (yay!) and already I have some good memories. There are all types of people who take the bus, for whichever reason they decide. But, there are also the regulars that I see almost everyday. These regulars I call my "bus friends" even though there is almost no acknowledgment of each other on both parts, although there has been the occasional eye contact...
Back to my story for the day. This occurred on Friday, while I was waiting for a different route than I normally take (being as I work for a temp agency, I had to turn in my time sheet for the week and pick up my paycheck, therefore allowing me to get on a different bus in approximately the same time frame that is a mile and half closer to my apartment). Anyway, so I'm sitting at the bench, minding my own business, wishing that I had not chatted for a full 4 minutes in the office, because then I might have caught the earlier bus. As I'm sitting there, just hanging out, waiting two teenage girls walk up, chatting, and generally being 15. Which is fine, whatever. They were too cool to sit on the bench, so they had to lean against the tree and almost get hit by a car backing up.
But then this dude turns the corner, and I have no idea what is going on with him, but he is weird. It is a fairly warm later September afternoon in New Mexico, and this guy is wearing a long flannel shirt, jeans, and gloves. PLUS, he is holding up a piece of cardboard, blocking the direct sunlight from hitting his face. Now I realize he might be allergic to the sun, because his face is really white, but at the same time, he smells bad, his hair is unkempt, and after he sits next to me on the bench (entirely too close for American space standards, I might add) he starts muttering to himself, I cannot tell what, but its almost like a combination of talking and getting a beat going at the same time. BIZARRE I say. But eh, its the bus after all.
So we end up getting on the same bus, and the two teenage ladies are waiting for the other. Our bus driver was particularly friendly, reminding us to stay seated if there were open seats (with all 3 of us on the bus) and to check our areas thoroughly before exiting, so we don't forget any of our possessions. My sunlight friend exited the bus way before me, and I made a friend at the intersection where I disembarked. We shared how horrible the pedestrian crossing is, and she shared that she has witnessed people getting hit by cars on the particular street we were on.
Oh the joys of ABQ!
To begin, I have been riding the bus for nearly a full two weeks now (yay!) and already I have some good memories. There are all types of people who take the bus, for whichever reason they decide. But, there are also the regulars that I see almost everyday. These regulars I call my "bus friends" even though there is almost no acknowledgment of each other on both parts, although there has been the occasional eye contact...
Back to my story for the day. This occurred on Friday, while I was waiting for a different route than I normally take (being as I work for a temp agency, I had to turn in my time sheet for the week and pick up my paycheck, therefore allowing me to get on a different bus in approximately the same time frame that is a mile and half closer to my apartment). Anyway, so I'm sitting at the bench, minding my own business, wishing that I had not chatted for a full 4 minutes in the office, because then I might have caught the earlier bus. As I'm sitting there, just hanging out, waiting two teenage girls walk up, chatting, and generally being 15. Which is fine, whatever. They were too cool to sit on the bench, so they had to lean against the tree and almost get hit by a car backing up.
But then this dude turns the corner, and I have no idea what is going on with him, but he is weird. It is a fairly warm later September afternoon in New Mexico, and this guy is wearing a long flannel shirt, jeans, and gloves. PLUS, he is holding up a piece of cardboard, blocking the direct sunlight from hitting his face. Now I realize he might be allergic to the sun, because his face is really white, but at the same time, he smells bad, his hair is unkempt, and after he sits next to me on the bench (entirely too close for American space standards, I might add) he starts muttering to himself, I cannot tell what, but its almost like a combination of talking and getting a beat going at the same time. BIZARRE I say. But eh, its the bus after all.
So we end up getting on the same bus, and the two teenage ladies are waiting for the other. Our bus driver was particularly friendly, reminding us to stay seated if there were open seats (with all 3 of us on the bus) and to check our areas thoroughly before exiting, so we don't forget any of our possessions. My sunlight friend exited the bus way before me, and I made a friend at the intersection where I disembarked. We shared how horrible the pedestrian crossing is, and she shared that she has witnessed people getting hit by cars on the particular street we were on.
Oh the joys of ABQ!
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