Can I Say, Preposterous?

There was a crazy man on the Gull Road bus today who sat behind me and swore his way (loudly) through phone conversations with his wife, his girlfriend (!), his cell phone service provider, and his plumber (?), and then yelled at the bus driver for ten straight minutes about how he was a terrible driver and how he deserved to be fired, and threatened to sue and/or assault him because he was an idiot and didn't care about people and [I quote] "I'm on disability and have a smart pass, so I can do whatever I want, and you can't ask me to get off the bus and you can't tell me what to do, so you better shut up and listen to me, because I already got kicked off the bus once for jumpin' one of you morons, and I'll do it again if you don't stop tellin' me to be quiet and you just do your job."  All nicely peppered with lots of f-words, naturally.  A gaggle of girls in the back started shrieking after four minutes just to drown him out.  (And he wouldn't stop kicking the back of my seat.)

(I have serious respect for the bus driver, who kept his cool remarkably well and even apologized to the rest of the passengers after the crazy man got off.)

The bus driver's error that brought this on?  The wheelchair ramp on the bus stopped working, so we had to switch buses and were a few minutes late leaving the depot, and the higher-ups instructed the driver to skip one of the regular stops to make up the time—a very small change in route which didn't affect any of the people on the bus.

How do (ahem) people like this get anywhere in life?

…
…

Probably best not to answer that question.
*shakes head sadly*

———

On another note, the Stadium bus was extremely packed, and this elderly couple got on and nobody could give them a seat.  The lady was too short to reach the overhead bar, so her husband (who could reach) wrapped his free arm around her and tucked her up under his chin, and they just grinned like they were twenty-somethings.  It was incredibly adorable.

Reenactment No.1

Encounter with Eccentric Talkative Person #237:  Jamaican dude in a striped sweater that made me think of chocolate.  (It was ivory-and brown-striped, and it made me think of the half-white chocolate striped Hershey's Hugs.)

The Gull Road Wal-Mart Metro Transit bus stop.

It was too cold to stand outside next to the old ladies who were smoking, so I wandered into the little glass partition and seated myself on the black metal bench (which was beyond icy; I was glad I had a long coat). 

He was hunched over his phone, but he was hanging up as I got there.  

For the purposes of this blog reenactment, I will refer to him as The Over-Friendly Jamaican Guy (OFJG).

He had a pretty thick accent (which was flipping sweet, but also means you need to use your imagination and insert me saying "Sorry, what?" after 85% of his sentences).

OFJG:  Allo!

Me:  Hi. 

OFJG:  Ah you a student? (points at my bag)

Me: Yeah, at KVCC.

OFJG:  Me too!  What you major in?

Me:  I don't have a major yet.  I'm thinking I'll probably go into English.

OFJG:  Oh!  I do nossing.

Me:  Nothing?

OFJG:  (laughs) No, nossing, not nossing!

Me:  (befuddled look)

OFJG:  Nossing!  (finally pulls out his phone and types "nursing".)

Me:  (slightly embarrassed) Oh! Nursing.  Cool.

OFJG: (nods, points at old ladies smoking outside.)  Do you smoke?

Me: (wide-eyed) No.

OFJG: You drink?

Me:  (awkward laugh) Oh, no!

OFJG:  Ah you mahrried?

Me:  Er, no.

OFJG:  (shocked)  Oh, you not mahrried?!  Why not?!

Me:  I don't think I'm old enough yet, I guess. 

OFJG:  Oh?  This yoa first year in college?  You live with your parents?

Me:  (nod)

OFJG:  When you plan on getting mahrried?  You want to graduate first and den get mahrried?

Me:  Um, probably.

OFJG:  You go for master's degree, den?  Long time?

Me:  i don't know yet.  It depends on what I decide to major in.

OFJG: (knowing nod)  Ah.  You have a boyfriend?

Me:  No, not yet.

OFJG: (again, shocked) What?  Why not?

Me:  Um...I've never been asked, I guess.

OFJG: Oh!  Why you never been asked?  You don't know?

Me:  No, not really.

OFJG: (shakes head in despair)  You don't know.  Ah.  What's yoa name? 

Me:  Kiersten.

OFJG:  Koastah?

Me:  KEER-sten.

OFJG:  Oh! Oh!  KEA-stin.  Nice name.

Me:  Thank you.  What's yours?

OFJG:  My name is Abie.  "A" for "opera", and "B" for baseball.  Easy to remember, yah?

Me:  (totally confused by "A" is for "opera")  Yup, easy to remember!

(long, quasi-awkward pause)

Me:  (spotting the bus pulling in across the parking lot)  Oh!  Are you taking the bus?

OFJG:  Yes, of course I take da bus!  Do you have a phone?

(I politely declined to give him my number, and then his phone rang, and our conversation was halted.)

I passed him in the hallway at school later, and he was like, "HEY, MON!"  but I didn't see him afterwards.

It was a highly entertaining and quite unforgettable  encounter, and I have very much enjoyed regaling it all day. I wish you were here so I could do it in person for you.