O.K....

I have a piece "under construction" about Bush Inc., torture and racism...
Heavy stuff.
Important, Yes!
But heavy...

So, after the previous two entries - about Torture Air and Abeer's rapists/murderers' sentencing...

I need something a little on the lighter side... Don't you?

This one's really brief, but funny. And, taaa-daaa!, it's from my personal direct recent experiences...

So...




It was a sublime night in San Francisco...



It had been raining earlier...



I had been waiting impatiently until it was dry enough to get my skate on. (I skate a 87 Caballero - bonite included - so I don't want to get it damp.)



After a while, I decide to make a run to Trader Joe's. Besides, the grab-it-when-you-can SF Muni bus I needed was right there. (Miracle of miracles!)


No, not this bus... but I wanted an interesting Muni photo.

So, I step up to pay my fare... And there's this crazy old man sitting right near the door - in the first seat...


No, not that crazy old man... a different one... one with a walker in front of him. I'd seen him as I skated by an earlier bus stop shelter.


Yeah, something like that

Pertinent side note: I don't dress like most other people. I have my own unique style of dress, one which may change on a moment-to-moment basis. Let me put it this way... When I'm figuring out what to wear on a given morning... my main objective is to not look like I shop at the Gap or Ubercrumbie. On this particular evening, it was cool out.. and a bit damp. I had black bondage pants on, some shirt - not sure which one - and two jackets. The first jacket is one I Love... it looks like something Trinity would wear... made of thin, black latex/pleather, long-sleeved, zips in the front...the top is snug like latex is supposed to be, below the waist is a full length, full skirt - cut open in the front... Over that jacket... my worn in motorcycle leather, with all its patches. It's the perfect combination when it's damp out and there's a chill in the air. Insulating, but not too much, and most important: water-proof... Oh, and it adds a dramatic touch.


I wish! Close enough... but gravity doesn't let me get away with as much as she does.

Back to the story...

So, I get on the bus. I'm putting my money in the contraption by the driver - balancing without holding onto anything - I needed both hands to dig out the money. As the door closes and the bus lumbers onward, in a zig-zagging sort of way... the crazy old man says - innocently enough - "Hello."
Surprised that someone spoke to me... and that I was actually paying attention enough to notice... I respond in kind, "Hello."
Silly me... I thought that would be the beginning, middle and The End of that conversation.
But, No... the old crazy fart had to go on to toss one at me from out in Left Field.

Left Field seats at SBC Park.

Next, he asked me a Really Stupid Question...

WRONG!!

He inquires of me - Matrix latex-wearing, slightly askew me - "Are you wearing a trash bag?"...



First lightning-fast flash though me... right after re-playing the scene over in my head to make sure I heard crazy old man correctly... was a flash of Anger..."What the fcuk did he just say?!"



I was aware that I was at that fraction of a nanosecond moment when you are still in complete control of yourself and you have a brief window of "time" where you can make the conscious choice between choosing A.) Offended, Angry and Getting Your Evil On...



And B.)Pulling all that back. Talking yourself down..."Listen... he's a crazy, old dude...with a walker! His eyesight's probably poor. It's dark out. He's probably never even seen The Matrix! He could have dementia. He could be head injured... so... lighten up. He meant no harm. Besides... there are other people on the bus - who probably never heard the question, but who would notice little, dark, sk8rgrrl me going off on him... Bad form.
So, wratcheted myself down, from that precipice, quickly.
All of this took place in the expanse between his question, it registering with me and my taking a quick breath, and letting it out... microts, as it were.
There should have been a choir of angels singing in the background.
Because, I simply stated, without any animosity, "No, I am not. It's a jacket."




All the aggro was gone...A good thing because once out, it doesn't go back so easily... Whew!

I Should'a listened to my Mother...



Re-reading this... I can laugh at it now... A 'trash bag'... what a comedian!


The End.