Friday, January 4, 2008

Day three...Public Displays of Connection.


...Yeah. "

"Oh, hi Julie."

"Yeah, I can't believe how drunk she was eith...hey, lemme call you back. I think she's beeping me right now."


"Hi, Brianna?"

"No you don't have to apologize. It was just weird to see you like that. I didn't even know you drank."

"No it's totally cool."

"Yeah, you were fine."

"No I think he really liked you."

"Well you definitely looked like you liked him."

"Ok, call me later. Promise? Ok, bye."



Holy shit.

I mean really.

I actually heard this practically yelled, by a guy, into an oversized dominoe of a phone from the back the bus yesterday evening. And it was fairly full.

I don't know if it's the signs that alert us to them, or the video cameras themselves that make people feel like they have their very own hit show which simply must go on. A show that is filmed in front of a live studio audience and brought to you by Sylvan Learning Center. If I let my mind go I can picture the outside scenes flying by in suspicious repetition as if they were blue screened in post production like an old Cary Grant comedy.

But this was real. At least the side of the conversation I heard.

I have to admit I was intrigued. Like the perpetual Bukowski short story that's always unfolding in my mind I had her pictured perfectly. Brianna. All of five foot three and uniquely proportioned. Brown curly hair. Bright blue contacts. Glitter. An ample but bashful bust, and a laugh that could cut through all the noisemakers at midnight on New Year's Eve in Times Square. And she was drunk. And she was making out with Chad. Not fucking Chad. He's married for christ sakes. His wife was about to have their second child and Chad was about to have his 8th tequila shot. And he didn't care. And he had his phone turned off. And his wife was calling. It was time. But he didn't know, he didn't care, and neither one of them quite remembered what happened in the guest room. And that was definitely for the best. And he had some serious explaining to do when he showed up at the maternity ward drunk, wedding ring in his pocket, and reeking of Now by Abercrombie and Fitch.

Oh yeah, the glitter. That took some time to get over.

And it was a girl. First one of the new year.

And that probably isn't what happened.

But that's not important. What is important is that I didn't have to peel open the wet bar napkin which is the Advocate and chuckle at the Entres Nous section in the back. I had my own right here. And it made me happy. Giddy even.

I'm not going to get all Seinfeld and cry bloody murder because somebody is invading my personal head space with their one sided conversation. Just the opposite. I'm just going to be nosy and listen. And then I'm going to write about it. See, they don't have a newspaper box on the bus because they want you to kind of know what's going on outside so you won't miss your stop. But I missed mine today because I was writing news of my own. And I have "Phone Guy" to thank. And Brianna. Oh, little misguided Brianna. She'll probably find love with a paralegal and settle down in Hadley. And each time she drives by the house on West St. she'll kind of wonder what ever became of Chad.

He very well may be a bus driver.

And if he is, I have a funny feeling that he will not allow cellphone conversations on his bus.

Oh and I saw my lawyer today.

That's for reals yo.

Tune in tomorrow and we can catch up.

1 comment:

J Shifty said...

"you know how you feel
when you're beside yourself
as you walk past the panes of glass
as you go on your way
to the bus stop on the sidewalk
there's a sign above eye level
you can't see, but it takes care of you
as you go on your way..."

Welcome back to the bus stop, Cap'n!

It's good to read your voice.

Pardon my closet blogonaut alias,
Johnny Whiskeyreader