The #2 Bus to PCH

On my way to the bus stop at Sunset and Edgemont, a homeless woman yelled out, “There goes another fornicator.”

I thought to myself, “Damn right!”

I don’t often take the bus but my girlfriend was coming from the west and I was coming from the east. The truth is I just couldn’t justify valeting two cars. It went against my blue-collar, Midwest upbringing.

I had a girlfriend who once told me I had poverty consciousness because I made sure the lights were turned off when I left my apartment. As a child, my father charged me a nickel if I left the lights on in a room I wasn’t in. Every time I left a room, my sister would sneak in and turn the light I had turned off back on and then tell my father. By the end of the week, my allowance was in the negative. But it didn’t matter because by then I was learning to become a thief.

I had spent a half hour on the Metro website to find out what time the bus was to arrive to take me to WeHo. I was early because I am German. Way, way back.

The line 2 bus to PCH was 13 minutes late. When I got on, I asked how much. The driver said $1.75. So I put 2 dollars in the machine and stood there trying to keep my balance as the bus started moving. The bus driver turned to me and said, “We do not give receipts.” I said, “That’s OK, but I want my 25¢ change.” The bus driver said, “We do not give change.” I just couldn’t help myself and I said, “This is bullshit,” as I walked to the back of the bus. All the passengers were looking down at their hundred dollar phones.

I got off the bus in WeHo and was surprised to see a homeless guy I always see in my ‘hood. I’m always cautious when I see him because I never know who I’m going to get. Sometimes I’d see him in a 3-piece suit, totally together, and then a week later he was like a filthy, wild animal. I found out he regularly gets admitted to a county health facility. They clean him up, give him new clothes and medicate him for 74 hours. After that, they dump him back on the street, walking around slightly confused but clean until the medication wears off and he returns to being the guy with voices in his head who needs a bath.

He looked right at me and asked for a dollar, which I gladly gave him.

He said, “How ya been?” and I told him everything was good.

He said, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” I said, “Sure, go ahead.” And he asked, “What kind of music do you listen to when you masturbate?”

I couldn’t think of an answer.



1 Comment

  1. Mia Muse Communique ~ said,

    March 16, 2015 at 7:58 am

    You stopped right when you had me!

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