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Klutch.xls: Get on the Bus . . .
Ever get on the wrong bus? I'm speaking literally, not figuratively. I mean sure, we've all gotten on the "wrong bus" before. Like deciding to be an acting major in college, dating that girl in High School, being Catholic. But I'm talkin' Wrong Bus!
Shit I'm on the wrong bus!
On one of these recent "Holy Jeebus it's Friggin 8 outside!" days, I rushed from the T to the bus, glanced up at the sign which read "Out of Service" (which apparently is my route. If you come to visit and bring me gifts, get off the T anywhere in the city and jump on a bus that says "out of service." About 5 stops later you should be at my apartment.) and hopped on. Instantly a chill went up my back as the doors shut behind me. As I looked around I saw no familiar faces. I don't ever talk to anyone or actually know anyone in my neighborhood, but I think you know what I mean.
More than that, the bus demographic was all wrong. Older, grungier, louder, smellier.
"Fuck me! I'm gonna end up in fucking Medfid!" I thought.
I had done this before and it wouldn't be that big of a deal, but as I reported, it was 8 (eight) outside. Farenheight, if you were wondering. My big fear is that I don't want to give anything away. Usually I won't get off at the first stop cause I don't want people to know that I am on the wrong bus.
Today I am having an insane day. Usually I assume everyone around me is insane. Today I think it is me.
P.S. I was not on the wrong bus. They had just given clemency to the prisoners at Suffolk County. Apparently they all live in my neighborhood.
Good Night.
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