Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Bus Report #621

And now, a story that I probably should have recounted weeks ago, but forgot about.

I was on the 22, heading home after work. The bus wasn't very crowded. I chose an empty seat in front of a couple who were talking very loudly. Almost as soon as I sat down, I realized why the seat was empty. These two people were all over the place.

The man, who sat in the window seat, kept standing up and moving around. The woman sat on the aisle. She wouldn't let him get past her. And just to add to my confusion, the man addressed the woman as Auntie, even though I doubted she was his aunt.
"Give me my damn phone," the man yelled.
"I don't have your phone," the woman yelled back.
"You'd best be giving it back to me, you bitch," he said. I heard a scuffle behind me but did not turn around, even though I wanted to. The woman cursed him out and moved to the seat on the other side of the aisle.
They kept yelling at each other, until the man reached in to his pocket and found his phone. He did not apologize to her.
"I gotta call Little Mama," he said. "What's her number?"
Another argument ensued: Auntie didn't want to give him the number. Finally, she snatched the phone away from him and punched in the phone number.
"Hey, Little Mama," the man said. Their conversation was short.
The bus crossed 16th and Bryant. The man said, "Yep, yep, we'll be at Mission Street in a quick minute." He ended the call.
Auntie sat back down next to him.
The man started rustling a paper bag. "I gotta divide this shit up," he told Auntie.
She took a deep breath and said, "mmmmm... I love that smell, but you know I don't smoke no weed. But that smells all right."
"You're not getting any of this," he warned her.
As our bus hit South Van Ness, the man said, "listen, we gotta get rid of this white powder I got, before we see Little Mama, or she'll have a fit."
"All right, all right," said Auntie.
And then, seconds away from the Mission and 16th bus stop, the two of them finished off the man's 'white powder'.
"Wipe your nose, wipe your nose," the man hissed at Auntie. "You've got it all over your face."
"I'm fine," Auntie said. The two of them stood in the stairwell, wiping their hands over their faces for a moment, before they got off the bus and met a woman who I assumed was Little Mama across the plaza.


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