… was a very odd day. This entire MONTH has been full of bizarre, horrible and distressing occurrences. Between my lovely hospitalization and apparent near-death, Rob’s death, and so many other little bits and pieces of utter hell.
So yesterday, I decided to take my guitar out to get some new strings and a little bit of tuning, perhaps some picks and a book. I realized I was running out of time, so I could either do that or see the kids — obviously, I went to see the kids. … sadly, this meant that I happened to get on the same crowded bus as an apparent masturbatory fiend. He of course chose me to be his unwilling victim, which was … just wonderful. I got to sit on a bus for twenty minutes while WankMaster 2000 stared at my crotch. It was … special. So special.
So! I figured screw it, I’ll head downtown and get some good old chocolate and espresso. Always cheers me up a bit. All was mostly uneventful (aside from a guy insisting to me that I had to sell him some weed, which I did not have, nor do I *ever* have for that matter) and a homeless woman that tried to use my guitar as a seat. (“Hey! Don’t sit on that!” … “Oh, sorry, I thought it was a chair.”) When the time to go rolled around so I could go to a DIFFERENT coffee shop, as is the life of a non-drunk Fort Lauderdaleite, I had this wonderful exchange:
“Hey, lady! Hey!”
“Hey! You got a guitar in that case?”
“Hey! Hey! You know why I like you?!”
“No. But you’re going to tell me.”
“Yup! I like you because you must be a serious BITCH to walk around town like that!”
“Hm. Alright. Bye, now.”
“No no no no no! Where you going? Don’t just walk off when—“
At this point, I put my headphones back on, because Front 242 does wonders to block out the rants of a man that smells of vodka, and continued to my bus. Apparently this was not good enough for him.
“HEY! Come back here! HEY!”
“I have a bus to catch, sir.”
“No you DON’T! WHAT BUS, HUH?” (Because, of course, I’m going to tell him where I’m going.)
“A bus. Goodbye.”
This has gone on for half a block, now, as he follows me down the road. Then this happy bit came. I was running late, I’ve had a BCD from hell (bad Crohn’s day, ahem) and I’m still recovering from the month’s general attitude of fuck you.
“You know what, bitch?! FUCK YOU. You’ll never GET ANYWHERE IN LIFE WITH AN ATTITUDE LIKE THAT!”
“So. Excuse me for being, oh, presumptuous, but you, a homeless man that reeks of vodka and just asked me for a cigarette, you that is sitting on a bench with your worldly belongings, you that is wearing mismatched shoes for lack of money … YOU are telling ME how to be a successful person?”
“NOW YOU JUST WAIT… THAT’S … THAT’S … NOW SEE THAT’S … HEY!”
“Uh huh. Have a nice day, sir.”
“Your fucking attitude SUCKS, BITCHWHORE!”
… And so, I continued my way to the bus. I almost wanted to feel bad, as someone that likes to be a Genuinely Nice Person™, but he was a true dick in the finest sense of the word. Maybe he was having a bad day too, but really — no need to do that sort of thing.
So. The bus terminal. This is not known for being a place of leisure and joy. You don’t have to be there long to extrapolate that fact. I got to dodge a pimp fight, some moody teenagers, a happy woman in a wheelchair that insisted she was Jesus’ lover (hey, at least she was nice, she earned a smile) and some other sundry individuals.
The bus ride there was decent enough … until I got OFF said bus. It was … hm. Let me just give this:
“Hiiiiiii, there, uh.”
“It was worth a shot.”
So now I’m here getting coffee. And chainsmoking. And chainsmoking…