It doesn’t take much to make me start looking at my watch, wondering if I’d started my commute at the wrong time: A different crowd on the bus, a less crowded bus, a more crowded bus, a different sequence of bus arrivals, a nearly empty bus stop at Pike and 4th on a Wednesday evening.
It doesn’t help matters that I’m reading John Waters’ fantasies while my commute doesn’t feel right. I’m still in the “best way it could happen” section. John has been recruited into a “Hipster Carnival” as “The Man With No Tattoos”. The circus features rides like Drunk Driving Dodgem Cars – riders are given a can of Colt 45 to drink before entering the ride.
During the 2 minutes I waited at the nearly empty stop at Pike and 4th for a ride home, I heard a woman’s voice, somewhere, reciting the Miranda rights. I don’t think it was a police officer doing the reciting.
On the ride home on the 47, a man sitting up front, who wasn’t eating anything, and didn’t appear to be carrying any food, asked the driver when they stopped allowing you to eat on buses. The driver replied that it’s always been that way.