Saturday, May 09, 2009

You Live and Learn



“Yeah I broke his window, keyed his fucking car too…”
The female was talking loud. Hell she didn’t really need a phone all she had to do was open the bus window and the conversation could’ve been heard in the next borough. I was trying to concentrate on the book I was reading but with her yammering several inches away from my ear it wasn’t happening. Exasperated I looked out the window to see how far away I was from my stop and caught her eye as she hung up her phone. That was all she needed.


“ Mira, mira tu” she said in her badly accented Spanish looking at me.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

“Knock yourself out.” I replied

“Check this out right…I just found out my man was playing me.”

“ That bastard.”

“Yeah right?”

“So what did you want to ask me?” I replied.

“His cousin is barking on me cause I tore up his car.”

“Wow.”

“I’m saying I keyed it and broke his windows too.”

“So I heard.” along with everybody else in the 5 boroughs

She nodded her head. Curiosity got the better of me.

“What kind of car was it?” I asked.

“A Bentley Continental Flying Spur... 2009”

I winced and said, “Ouch.”

She smiled at my reaction…it’s a twisted world we live in folks when innocent cars are made to pay for their owners sins.

“I paid him back for breaking my heart.” She said.

“True that.”

“I’m saying you know and eye for an eye. Now he talking about pressing charges against me.”

“Well there ya go. Every action has a consequence. He broke your heart, you killed his car. It all evens out in the end.”


The fact that I was saying all of this with a straight face seemed to cheer her up. No way in hell was I telling this psycho she was in any way wrong.

“Can I get an amen sister?” she said and laughed

“Amen, amen, praise be Jesus.” I replied.

“Still I can’t front I love the man.” She said.

“Uh look I hate to be the one to break the news to you but I doubt there’s going to be any make-up sex after this.”

“Yeah I’m sure you’re right but he gonna think twice before he play the next female dirty.”

The female had a point and I had to concede it. Hell if I were him I wouldn’t even let the next female know I owned a skateboard much less a car. You live and learn.

Labels: bus stories

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Posted by @ 1:09 AM
2 comment from:  christina/ohio,  Mia,

Friday, February 06, 2009

Pissed Off As Hell

It was rush hour and the bus was crowded yesterday morning so when I felt someone nudge me I didn’t give it too much thought. I turned to see who it was and had to look up in order to look into the face of the person that had nudged me. Something about the way the tall man looked at me didn’t feel right. I moved away from him and made my way towards the rear exit of the bus, my stop was coming up.


As I made my way down the stairs I felt a heavy weight in the middle of my back. Someone had pushed me with all their might down the stairs and into on coming traffic. I'll give you 3 guess as to who pushed me. If you guessed the tall man you're correct. Maybe I would’ve been bounced between a car or two, or maybe I would've only lost some teeth and busted my face open when my face finally made contact with the road.

Luckily for me my guardian angel was on the ball; a truck stopped right in front of me as I flew through the air and broke my fall preventing me from falling directly in front of traffic. Ever heard the expression "I feel like I've been hit by a truck"? I kind of sort of now know what it means on a small scale. I hit the side of the truck full force with my body. OOmph! That hurt!

Thinking he had knocked the wind out of me the man jumped on me and tore the book bag off my shoulder. I managed to turn myself around and hold onto one strap of the bag with my hand and fight him off with my other hand. The dude was trying to hit me. “Cabron, let go of my fucking bag!” I yelled at him and then let loose a string of curses in English and Spanish thank you very much that would’ve made a sailor proud. Our struggle continued until my grip slipped and he took off running. I quickly gave chase; he looked over his shoulder and seemed shocked that I was running after him and gaining on him. Jogging does the body good. I wasn’t chasing him because the bag contained essentially my academic life. I was chasing him due to the principal of the matter, hello the bastard had pushed me into rush hour traffic! I was pissed off as hell .


“I am so going to fuck you up when I catch you!” I yelled at him. All of a sudden a Mass Transit Authority worker came out of nowhere and tackled the would be robber from the side. My book bag flew through the air and I was sure the lap top would be shattered on impact. I snatched my bag off the floor and rushed towards the man ready to dispense a very thorough ass kicking when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around me , “Calmate nena, calm down little girl .” where the hell did he come from? Another MTA worker said as he pulled my back towards his chest. By the time the cops got there several people were restraining me in order to keep me from hitting the guy. When he saw the approaching cop cars the robber panicked and tried to fight his way out of the situation and got his ass handed to him by the MTA guy.

The officers were pretty quick about it and as soon as I’d given my statement and thanked everyone for their help I got on the next bus and headed to my internship. My laptop by the way survived without a scratch. I wasn’t so lucky, I am all sore and bruised from running into the truck. I'm still pissed off as hell.

Labels: bus stories

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Posted by @ 1:37 AM
5 comment from:  Unknown,  Anonymous,  christina/ohio,  Goggles Piasano Ritardo,  Mia,

Thursday, January 22, 2009

I'll Have Whatever He's Having

I was waiting for a bus when I noticed him. Something was definitely up with the man and alcohol at least on this day played a major role in whatever was going on inside of his head.


It was freezing outside and the man was obviously in no pain as we waited for the bus. He sipped from a Dunkin’ Donuts cup while eyeballing all the people who arrived at the bus stop. Finally one girl in particular caught his eye or rather her large derriere caught his eye. She joined our crowd oblivious to the swaying man behind her staring at her ass. After a few seconds he began waving his cup at her behind. He was actually trying to smack her across the butt with the cup in his hand but his lack of balance wasn’t allowing him to make the connection. We warned her about his intentions and she turned around and glared at him over her shoulder. He straightened up and walked away pouting the entire time.

His pouting didn’t last long, he’d moved on to better things. He was now an airplane. He took another sip from his cup and held out his arms and revved his engine. He dipped and twisted his body pretending he was flying. His engine sputtered and made a noise as if it were descending. His landing was perfect, not a drop was spilled from his cup. The plane then morphed into a car a very ritzy car from the haughty look on his face. He rolled down his window and leaned out shaking his fist at traffic and bounced up and down as he “drove” away mumbling about the damn pot holes on the road. “I wonder what the hell is in that cup?” the man standing next to me said. “I don’t know but I’ll have whatever he’s having.” I replied.

Labels: bus stories

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Posted by @ 12:39 PM
3 comment from:  christina/ohio,  Mia,  Mia,

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Animal Crackers

Our relationship had been brief but it had been a sweet one full of funny faces, and giggles.Now the look in her eyes said nothing would have made her happier than to see a chalk outline of my body on the floor of the bus.


Our relationship changed in the blink of an eye.Her mom had been holding her in her arms when the bus suddenly lurched forward causing the animal crackers she held in her zip lock bag to spill out. I reached over and snapped the baggie shut at her mother’s request. She didn’t appreciate me blocking her access to the crackers and now the toddler was giving me the dirtiest looks a little kid could muster.

Her eyes followed me as I made my way off the bus. When I made it to the side walk I looked up at the window. She was clutching the bag of animal crackers to her chest and still giving me the evil eye. That kid could sure hold a grudge.

Labels: bus stories

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Posted by @ 12:04 AM
2 comment from:  Anonymous,  Mia,

Saturday, September 20, 2008

I bet you wish you had used those a couple of years ago

The little guy was wailing, the passengers on the bus winced and some covered their ears. The kid had a great future as an opera singer; his cries had managed to be heard by me despite the music blasting in my ears.


His mom looked as if she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her up, not even the promise of watching Dora the Explorer was cutting her some slack with the kid. As temper tantrums go his was an impressive one. I had to give it at least an 8 on a scale of 1-10. His face was beet red, his body was twisting, his feet stomping, the kid looked like a mini flamenco dancer in the middle of a dance routine.

His mom grabbed him off the floor and sat him next to her. He slid off the seat and screamed. She then tried putting him in her lap; his arms and legs flew all over the place kicking and slapping at the Rite-Aid bag she held in her hand. The bag flew out of her hand all of its’ contents spilling out all over the floor, the little boy threw himself on the floor as well and screamed louder.

A bottle of Suave Strawberry Shampoo rolled under the seat, her Tussy roll- on deodorant rolled down the aisle. A box of Trojan condoms landed by the feet of the old woman sitting in front of her. The woman looked down at the box and then back up at the mother. The young mother’s face flushed with embarrassment, “Hmph,” the old woman said as she shot a glance at the screaming toddler, “I bet you wish you had used those a couple of years ago.” I stifled a laugh as I bent down and picked up the condoms and handed them to her.

Labels: bus stories

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Posted by @ 10:07 AM
4 comment from:  christina/ohio,  Mia,  Anonymous,  Mia,

Friday, May 23, 2008

Chalk One Up For Karma

Pulling into Fort Washington (Little Santo Domingo) a neighborhood we Hispanic New Yorkers affectionately call “Que Lo Que Land” the bus was already fairly crowded when a woman got on with her little girl. Almost immediately a little boy around 10 years old stood up and offered his seat to the lady and her child. Naturally everyone's heart just melted, beside him his mom beamed with pride.



Once the lady and her little girl had settled in on the seat the lady looked at the little boy and in Spanish said, “Oh he is so adorable and sweet what a little gentleman!” His mother replied, "Gracias." and looked lovingly at her son, her little Sir Galahad. The lady smiled at him and then gave him a tradtional hispanic blessing, “May God bless him, the saints protect him and may the Virgin Mary always favor him!” she said. When imparting blessings the old school latinos don't play they try to cover all the bases. I suddenly had the urge to cross myself and say "Amen".

Maybe the kid was an atheist, maybe the kid was the anti-Christ in disguise and the blessing made his ass itch, or maybe the kid just couldn’t handle the compliment. For whatever reason as soon as the blessing left the lady’s lips the kid gave an evil smile, locked his eyes on the woman’s face,stuck his middle finger up and waved in front of her face.There was an audible gasp from the people around us and his mother lunged to grab him but he effortlessly dodged her and tripped over my feet.

As he attempted to pull himself up the bus lurched and he hit his forehead on the metal pole he’d been holding onto while trying to get up. “Toma!” someone on the bus shouted at the kid. “Ay!” he yelled and grimaced as the knot on his forehead took shape. The kid stared at me as he rubbed his forehead ignoring his mother’s hand reaching out to him. “God don’t like ugly little boy",I told him “That’s why he gave you a cocotaso. It’s called Karma just so you know.” He nodded his head at me knowingly as he made his way into his mother’s arms. Chalk one up for Karma.

Labels: bus stories

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Posted by @ 9:28 AM
5 comment from:  Anonymous,  Goggles Piasano Ritardo,  Mia,  Anonymous,  Mia,

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

God I Love Kids!

God I love kids much like me they seem to have no working filter between their brains and mouths.

I was riding the bus and the cutest little girl no older than 6 was twisting around her seat taking in everyone and everything around her. The teenaged boy sitting next to her caught her attention. Her eyebrows furrowed as she studied the boy… “Mommy is that a boy or a girl?” The boy turned and faced the little girl and smiled at her. “He’s a boy sweet heart.” Obviously the girl didn’t get out much because she acted as if had never seen a man with long hair before. I inwardly chuckled imagining what her reaction to my brother’s hair would be; his jet black hair is past his shoulder blades.

“But he has long hair like you mommy!” “Some boys have long hair too” the mother explained. “Uh, uh” the little girl responded in a sing song voice. She was too adorable and obviously a child after my own heart. From the look of her she’s going to grow up to question authority. I thought. She stared at the boy trying to draw her own conclusions; she wasn’t just going to take her mom’s word. She got up on her knees and tapped him on the shoulder. “Are you really a boy?” she asked. The teenager smiled at her and nodded. “But your hair is too long!” she replied. “I like my hair long.” He then he pointed at the faint moustache and goatee growing on his face. “See I have a moustache and a beard. So I’m a boy.”

The little girl leaned in and studied his peach fuzz, her eyes narrowed as if she remembered something. She turned to face the seat across from her and I already knew where she was headed with this one. It was going to go down bad. Either our fellow passenger was a transvestite with a 5 o’clock shadow or a natural born female with some serious facial hair problems, either way she was about to get shouted out by the little girl. “So that don’t mean nothing”, she said as she pointed at the bearded lady “SHE has a moustache and beard too!” A few people laughed. The mother quickly yanked her daughters hand down, told her to sit down, and whispered something in her ear. Even though the bearded lady had pretended not to hear the little girl her face said it all, she wanted to drop kick that kid into the next borough. Like I said God I love kids!

Labels: bus stories, kids

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Posted by @ 12:12 AM
1 comment from:  Mia,

Saturday, March 08, 2008

If I’d had some Girl Scout cookies on me I’d made a killing on that bus

Due to genetics plus the fact that I’m not even five feet tall people have a tendency to think I’m a lot younger than I am. While I have always found it frustrating having to prove my age to the incredulous I recently discovered that this whole looking like a kid thing can actually work to my advantage…



It was a bone chilling, rainy day and as I watched the wind twist umbrellas into pieces of modern art from the bus window it dawned on me that my messenger bag felt awfully light. I had left my text book behind and damn it to hell I actually needed it for the class I was heading off to. I hopped off the bus at the next stop and walked back home wondering if I was suffering from some sort of dementia. Several days before I almost stepped out of my room without pants after suddenly remembering I had a message for my mother. It was only when I opened my door and felt the chill across my thighs did I look down and realized my pants were still on the bed. I’ve never been able to leave my house without having to turn back. It’s like a freaking curse not to mention it’s become the family joke. It’s always the same routine as I get ready to leave a list shouted out at me, “Mia don’t forget your… phone..wallet…ID…money...bank card…” Still I always leave something behind.

I ran into my house grabbed the text book from the dining room table and ran back out before the elevator even had a chance to leave my floor. Yes! Luck was on my side the bus was just pulling in as well when I reached the corner. When I slipped my metro card into the slot the driver told me I couldn’t board the bus with my card because it had just been used at this bus stop not more than 10 minutes ago. I explained to him that I’d forgotten my school book and had to get off the bus to get it. Still he refused to let me back on the bus unless I paid. I checked my pockets but I had no change, of course I’d left my change purse behind. “Do you have change for a five?” I asked, “No, he replied “get off the bus.”

I tried to convince him to let me on after all I do pay 70 plus bucks a month for my monthly unlimited metro card it’s a stupid rule that they have that you can’t swipe twice on a route within minutes if you ask me. Still he refused to let me on. Finally a lady noticed what was going on and started flipping on the driver, “Oh for the love of God it’s raining outside and she’s just a little girl! You can’t leave the little girl standing outside like that it’s not right! She’s just a little girl!” Several passengers took note of me in the doorway soaking wet and after getting an eye full of my best puppy dog eyes complete with little pout they took up my cause as well. In a matter of seconds the bus was filled with the chants of “She’s just a little girl! Let her on the bus!” The bus driver now felt like the bad guy, “Get on the fuckin’ bus kid, before they turn on me.” He grumbled.

If I’d had some Girl Scout cookies on me I’d made a killing on that bus.

Labels: bus stories

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Posted by @ 5:45 PM
6 comment from:  christina/ohio,  Goggles Piasano Ritardo,  don_veto,  Mia,  Mia,  Anonymous,

Friday, February 15, 2008

Toca Piano

It was freezing, the kind of arctic cold that chafes you right through your jeans.
The bus was late and because of that there was a larger than average crowd. Everyone piled on the bus not wanting to be left behind on the school campus, grateful to be out of the cold. The driver pressed whatever it is he needed to press to get the doors closed but it was a no go. The doors refused to close.
After several attempts and colorful curses he got off the bus and tried to fix the problem from the outside. He managed to get them closed manually but when he tried to open them to get in the bus they refused to budge. He tried his keys several times but the doors refused to obey and adding insult to injury some of the passengers started to laugh when they realized he was locked out of the bus. Several of the passengers tried to pry the door open from the inside to no avail. Nobody was laughing now, especially the driver. Finally the he kicked the bus and walked off into the night without a word. Necks strained watching him walk away. Our asses were stuck like sardines in a can. The bus was totally silent for a few seconds until cell phones were whipped out in a mass calling frenzy. Thirty minutes went by and there was no sign of the driver.

Suddenly a man I recognized as a professor pushed his way to the front of the bus with a Swiss army knife in his hand. He slid his hand around a panel to the left of the steering wheel before he found what he wanted. Less than a minute later not only did he have the bus doors opened but he managed to get it running and turned on the heat on for us. The passengers went wild. As he went past me I touched his arm and asked, “Professor how did you do that?!” He wiggled his fingers in the air as if he were playing a piano and leaned to whisper in my ear,”Nena once upon a misspent youth I was a toca piano.” and then straightened up. “A what?” I asked. “You’re Boriqua right?” “Yeah” “Ask your mother she’ll know what that is.” He winked at me and put his index finger against his lips as if letting me know this bit of info was just between us the only Latinos on the bus. The bus driver arrived several minutes later with a crow bar in his hand. He stopped in front of the bus and looked amazed. He took his seat and before driving off said to no one in particular, “I don’t even want to know.”

I called mom as I walked home, “Woman what the heck is a toca piano?” My mom started laughing, “Wow that’s old school! I haven’t heard in a long time!” “Doesn’t it mean piano player ma?” “Well yeah, but if you do the hand movement it’s street slang for a thief, car thief mostly.” I explained to her what had happened. “When he said it did he do a hand movement to go along with it?” “Yeah ma he did.” “Well sweetie it seems your professor has had an interesting life!”

Labels: bus stories

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Posted by @ 8:55 PM
4 comment from:  Anonymous,  Mia,  Unknown,  Mia,

Monday, January 07, 2008

A scurrilous lie

A group of people were at the bus stop preaching, their mission on this cold day was to save as many BX36 riders as humanly possible. I cursed at myself for having misplaced my headphones and not being able to drown the sermon out with music. Try as they might on this particular day none of the sinners were interested in being saved but I'm pretty sure it had to do with their style of preaching all fire and brimstone finger wagging in the air. Instead of making you want to embrace the message it left you wanting to judo chop the messenger in the throat. A family friend approached me on his way to the store and attempted to play catch up with me until the traffic light changed. Finally the light changes and he was gone. I leaned out of the bus shelter to see if the bus was coming …nope, no bus aqui. As I stepped back into the bus shelter I made eye contact with the preacher who had been listening in on my conversation. Awww crap I did it to myself! The man walked over to me and pointed his finger at me…

Preacher: Jesus LOVES you!

Thank you for the reminder sir I love him as well it's just organized religion I have a problem with.

The people with him gathered around him like back up singers. A few choruses of amen rang out in the air. I said nothing instead I do a poor imitation of my iguana and closed my eyes…if I can’t see it then it’s not there. I rubbed my eyes and opened them slowly…awww crap the preacher man and his backup singers were still there.

“Mia, be nice no smart ass comments please.” my subconscious yelled out at me. “Fine, fine, esta bien (okay)!" I shot back.

Preacher: My sister, my child I will pray for you tonight and continue to pray for you that you continue on your path. That you never want for anything. It makes the Holy Father proud when one of our children does good.

He stared at me as if he was expecting a response…

Wow that's really nice of him. No Mia, don’t do it don’t you freaking dare do it… but it's a really sweet gesture on his part...shut up…don’t talk to the man…you’ll get a sermon if you do..shhhh

Mia: Uh thank you sir.

He smiled at me and came closer his little posse took a few steps forward as well.

Crap You’ve got no one to blame but yourself…damn you female!

Preacher: Have you accepted the lord Jesus Christ as your savior my child?

I gave him a tight lipped smile hoped he’d move on, he seemed glued to the spot. I heard the bus engine turning over on the opposite end of the block. In a matter of minutes it would be turning the corner making its way to our stop. Not getting a response from me the preacher tried another tactic.

Preacher: Do you drink, do you smoke, do you take the lord’s name in vain…do you fornicate girl?

AHHH on occasion yeah I’ve been known to hoist a few, cigarettes no, other stuff occasionally uhh what was the last question again, why don’t we move on to the next one shall we? Lord’s name in vain you say? Well sure unintentionally but it’s all good because the higher power is free to take my name in vain if the need arises… as for that last one I plead the 5th my grandparents read my blog.

Getting no response from me he tried another approach…

Preacher: Are you aware that Jesus died for your sins?!

WTF?! Why it always gotta be my sins? I actually didn’t start consciously sinning until the late 90’s thank you very much and by that time Jesus was long gone.

He’s not letting me off the hook; my silence was obviously some sort of sign to him.

Preacher: Well young lady? Do you know that JESUS died for YOUR sins?!

Aww to heck with it...

Mia: My sins, me specifically?

The preacher gave a triumphant smile and looked at his posse. He had made me talk.

Preacher: Yes your sins.

The bus pulled into the stop, the crowd began to board it.

Mia: Sir I am offended! I must inform you that the accusation you’re leveling at me is a scurrilous lie! That rumor was started by Carmen Martinez during our senior year to keep me from being elected prom queen!

Before he could respond I ran up the stairs to the bus and the doors closed. I looked back to see him glaring at me.

Aww come on preacher man that was funny! Where's your sense of humor? I know Jesus has a sense of humor after all Pat Roberston is still alive and kicking.

Somehow I doubt he’ll be praying for my salvation tonight.

Labels: bus stories, religion, smartass

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Posted by @ 12:59 AM
5 comment from:  Mia,  Anonymous,  Mia,  DannieS72,  Mia,

Thursday, November 01, 2007

A Lesson

WTF is wrong with kids today? Yeah I know I sound like my grandmother now but seriously when the hell did good manners and respect become obsolete? I’m not talking about remembering to put your napkin on your lap and keeping elbows off the table.I’m talking about common courtesy towards each other.

I was on my way home from school the other night when a high school student boarded the bus and as she walked by bumped into me nearly knocking me over. I looked back at her to make sure she was okay, because the messenger bag that she had nearly knocked off my shoulder with my laptop and assorted thick ass heavy text books weighs a ton and I wanted to assure myself that she had not been hurt by it. See an accident can happen to anyone it’s what you do afterwards that defines you. Instead of apologizing as she should have she stopped, rolled her eyes at me and sucked her teeth...and said, “What?!”

OH HELL to the freaking No this heffa didnt just nearly separate my shoulder and then cop an attitude with me. I not in the mother flipping mood for this. I‘d just been through a rough time in class and wasn’t in the best of moods to begin with (that’s a story for another day) and now this kid wanted to piss me off more. Oh Hell to the freaking no uh uh no freaking way..I was so not in the mood for this....

Mia: What the hell do you mean WHAT?! You just bumped into ME not the other way around. For future reference the words you should be using in place of “what?!” are as follows EXCUSE ME, PARDON ME, or the ever popular and classic I'M SORRY . As a matter of fact even OOPS MY BAD is acceptable yeah I’m willing to accept an oops my bad. .

she sucked her teeth again and gave me the patented ghetto girl half head roll waving her hand in the air for emphasis....I expected her to do the trashy talk show spiel...” what eva what eva I do what I want I do what I want you don’t know meeeeee!”all eyes were on us.....

Girl: Whatever... what you gonna do about it.

Then she got in my face. Girl must've been out of her damn mind. She was several inches taller than me and from her stance and attitude I got the impression that she was under the illusion that I was also a high school student. I get that a lot from truant officers they always try to take me in for playing hooky and then get embarrassed when I should them my ID . Obviously this chick needed someone to teach her respect for her elders and tonight the chore of teaching fell on me. I looked up at her and thrust my upper body towards her readying myself to slap the snot out of her if she stepped up to me again. She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes at me again as if she was challenging me. I let out a sigh and got into her face with the killer stare and my voice deepening with anger...

Mia: I’m not in the mood for your crap little girl. Seriously I am not. There’s no need for all this so stop your nonsense because you’re irking the crap out of me. Right now I’m not caring that i'm 24 years old and can get locked up for beating up on you. I seriously don’t give a shit by the time the cops get here to slap the cuffs on me your ass will be ready for traction so don’t play yourself kid. You’re messing with an adult not a kid. If you want to act grown I will beat your ass down like you’re grown. So fill me in on what you wanna do.


The girl was dumbstruck. Yup she had mistaken me for a high school student. Damn my lack of stature I should’ve paid attention when ma said, "eat your veggies Mia they will make you tall and strong". Especially the tall part. Her friends started laughing and one of them said, “ ohhhh snap!” I glared at them and said, “Hey peanut gallery nobody likes an instigator.This is between me and her.” I looked into her eyes and said, “Now little girl unless you’ve got something else you want to say you better apologize and go sit your ass down.” The girl stared at me for a second mumbled a half-assed apology and took a seat next to her friends. A woman who’d been sitting down looked up at me and said, “Are you really 24? “ Yes m’am I am.” She shook her head and said, “Oh my god you like a baby!” I smiled at her and replied, “That’s what they tell me m’am.”

As the bus continued it's route I caught the girl sneaking looks at me every now and then looking quite contrite. I hope she learned something that evening.

Labels: bus stories, etiquette, kids, manners

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Posted by @ 5:23 PM
6 comment from:  Just Jane,  Goggles Piasano Ritardo,  Mia,  Mia,  Mia,  DannieS72,

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Angel On The Bus

By nature I am naturally a shy person therefore I can appreciate how hard it is to initiate conversations with a stranger. I would never have the cojones to strike up a conversation like that. That takes courage something I am seriously lacking. For whatever reason maybe it’s my eyes I dunno but it tends to happen to me a lot,strangers starting up conversations with me. Invariably and unintentionally I’ll say something that will make them laugh and next thing you know we’re talking to each other as if we’ve known each other forever.

I took the bus from the Bronx into Manhattan to pick up my significant other from work. Granted it would have been way faster if I’d taken the subway but when it’s nice outside and I have time to kill I prefer to take the bus and enjoy the ride. I was into my music checking out the scenery when my phone rang. I popped out one of my ear buds and lowered the volume on my iPod, it was the BF wanting to know my whereabouts. Just then I happened to look up and noticed a man staring at me. He smiled warmly at me and I returned his smile and went back to my conversation. Every now and then I’d catch him looking at me, specifically the tattoo on my left arm. My conversation over I slid my phone into the front pocket of my messenger bag and was about to put my ear bud back into place when the man approached me and asked about my tattoo. He wanted to know where I had gotten it.

He wanted a tat himself but was unsure as to where to get it from. I gave him the name and address of my regular tat guy and warned him not to be put off by the place. It’s in rough part of the Bronx in the back of a biker bar. My guy Michelangelo (name’s perfect for him) has a couple of rooms in the back of his bar that he and his apprentice work out of a couple times a week in between tending bar. Michelangelo doesn’t ink because he needs the money he inks for the love of the art and his prices are reflective of this. The only catch is you have to go at night after the bar is opened , the later the better Michelangelo doesn’t ink during the day. I also warn him that sometimes there's a long line of people waiting to see Michelangelo so be prepared to break night playing pool or come back another time.

The man asked to take a closer look at my tat and I hike up my short sleeve all the way up to my shoulder so he can examine it thoroughly. He’s amazed by the intricate tat and tells me about the tattoo he wants. He wants to tattoo the images of his wife and three daughters on his back. “Can I just talk to you?” he asks “Sure thing it’s not like I’m going anywhere, looking around the bus, “my stop is no time soon.”One thing leads to another and the next thing you know he is pouring out his story to me. He tells me his wife and kids died in a fire a few years back and he’s having a hard time, he can't seem to move on with his life. He talks for awhile. His grief pouring out like verbal diahrrea. He can't seem to hold anything back. The pain of it all is there on his face and in his words. I listen intently and ask questions about his girls, his wife. Little things. He loosens up a bit and begins to tell me about the little details of his former life. His girls loved french toast with raisin smiley faces on top;his wife had an identicial twin and he could never tell them apart and she'd always tease him about it. Things that back then were taken for granted but that today are treasured. The more he talks about them the more he remembers until he finally confesses what I'd felt all along; he feels guilty for having survived the fire. Finally he seems to be talked out exhausted and falls silent. I tell him that his wife would want him to live and to move on because after all when we love someone truly love someone we want them to be as happy as possible even if we are not a part of the happiness...still just to see them happy gives us joy.

After a couple of silent minutes he confided that he had never spoken to anyone about the way he felt not even his own family. He preferred to suffer in silence with his grief and with his survivor guilt. He said he couldn’t even understand what drew him to me what made him open up to me except that when I had smiled at him it had affected him, my smile he said stirred him. “ Do you realize you have an incredible smile? It has has the power to light up a room. ” "Thanks.I owe it all to my Oral B toothbrush and regular flossing." I reply and he laughed. He then adds that I should really be a shrink because I was so easy to talk to. I smile again and don't bother to tell him about the years of counseling classes or the shiny new psychology degree I recently acquired. Instead I suggested a couple of grief support groups for him to check into. He promised that he would.

We sat in silence for a few minutes and just before his stop came up he stood up kind of bowed to me and kissed my hand then headed for the exit. He looked back at me and just before he stepped off the bus added “ Who knew i'd find an angel here on earth. An angel right on the bus. Thank you.”

After he left I sat back and felt as if I had done something good that day as if all the years of hard work and studying had paid off. I had actually made a difference, I had actually helped someone . This at a time when I was doubting that i'd be able to put my degree to use when I was thinking it was worthless. I can’t put it into words. The feeling that came over me was indescribable and words can not possibly to it justice. He may have thought that I was an angel that day but in reality the angel on the bus was him. He gave me confidence that I was on the right track and that sticking around NY for another couple of years to pick up another degree had been the right thing. I often think about him while on my way to school now and just when the work load at school seems to be a little too much I remember his face and his words and it spurs me on.

Labels: bus stories, grief, tattoos

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Posted by @ 12:18 AM
2 comment from:  Just Jane,  Mia,

Monday, October 02, 2006

Mass Transit Stories

There are so many things one can say about riding the mass transit system in New York City; it’s a separate universe from the rest of the city. While riding the subway you’ll often see mini soap operas, slices of people’s lives. The vignettes only last as long as it takes to reach the stop of the players or the audience. Here’s a couple that I was privy to…

Saturday: “Yo those niggas are stealing our culture!”

Reina and I were on the subway on our way home alongside a group of white suburban rocker kids down for a night of clubbing in the city. The kids were irked at what they were seeing. Urban trends are slow to reach the ‘burbs so what they were seeing was new to them minority ghetto fab kids rocking converses, leather wrist bands and chains on their jeans, oh my! This has long been the standard uniform of hard core rock and punk followers. But not too long ago when it became alright for rockers and hip hoppers to admit that they were influenced by and were feeling each others music did the line between the two musical genres become blurred. Artists like Jay-z and Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit and Method Man started recording together creating mashes. All this mashing started having an influence on fashion as well. The suburban kids on the subway were not feeling that at all. They were downright unhappy about it.

“Yo son these niggas are stealing our culture yo!” Theys be rocking the chains and shit . Yo that shit is ill son.” While the white kid raged on about the urban kids “stealing” their culture he was speaking in pure ghetto hood slang. I’d like to point out these kids looked like the closest they’ve ever been to the hood is watching “ Boyz in The Hood” on DVD.

As the kid kept popping crap he kept delving deeper and deeper into urban hood lexicon. I just looked at him and started laughing and in my most ghetto-est of ghetto-est accents; “Yea son then niggas stay jocking the rocker culture yo waddup with that son?” I said to Reina who just started cracking up, “Shhhh Mia!” Just then some black kids in “rocker” gear got on the train and the white kids reverted back to proper English not once did the word “nigga” escape their lips. Smart kids! The 34th street station came up and they got off.



Sunday: “I am GOD!”

I was on my way to meet Angie when this lady got on the bus with her 6 year old son. She asked him to sit down just in case the bus came to a sudden stop or something. The kid didn’t want to sit she tried explaining to him why it was important for him to sit. She touched his arm trying to get him to sit.

Boy : Don’t touch my face!

Mother : (calmly) I didn’t touch your face I touched your arm. Please sit down.

Boy: you’re NOT my father you can’t tell me what to do.

Mother : Look right now I am God!

I expected the mom to launch into the “I brought you into this world and I will take you out of this world” speech but she didn’t. Instead the brat decided to tell his mother off. They continued to bicker back and forth.

Mother : I will not tolerate the behavior that your father does now sit down!


The bus driver and a few of the passengers looked like they wanted to slap the stuffing out of the kid. To be honest he was plucking my last nerve as well. If I had dared to talk like that to my mother as a kid I would be sitting here typing this out while wearing dentures.

Mother : Look you’re starting to piss me off

Boy: No YOU’RE starting to piss me off!

“SLAP!” and all fell silent. The child said no more, he didn’t even dare wail in agony. He looked at his mother in shock. God had spoken. The bus stopped and I had to get off.

Labels: bus stories, subway stories

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Posted by @ 1:42 AM
5 comment from:  The Krispy Dixie,  don_veto,  Karmyn R,  christina/ohio,  DannieS72,

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

OOps my bad...

Have you ever had one of those moments that are so embarrassing you wanna slap you’re forehead and go “DOY!” I had just gotten off the bus and was walking towards the subway on my way to school. I was around the area where my friend Patrick lives. I see a guy in front of me he looked just like Patrick. I grabbed him and say heyyyyy I know you! Figuring I’d scare him. I’m saying how many pink cheeked blonde blue eyed tall Irish guys wearing a black Woolrich in the Bronx can there be? Honestly! Well ha ha on me turns out there is more than one. The guy was not Patrick. I repeat the guy was not Patrick. Ever seen a tan chick turn red? Ohhh man I could feel the blood rushing to my face (shakes head back and forth). They guy turned and looked at me like WTF?! Poor dude probably thought I was gonna rob him or something. Imagine you’re deep into the music on your iPod and some loca grabs you? Especially in that neighborhood that is not exactly white man central. After his heart traveled up from his butt back into his chest he gave me a smile. It didn’t help I was massively embarrassed I ran up the stairs onto the subway platform at break neck speed.

Labels: bus stories

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Posted by @ 7:36 PM
4 comment from:  Mr. Khurram,  Aisha,  Emory Mayne,  Mia,