Bus Riders in the Sky

You might recall, my darlings, that Thursday morning I was cranky. I had shared my fear of spiderwebs and that had brought me some respite, but in the end, I was still making the Frowny Face. So I decided to continue on in the task of spring cleaning The Treehouse. Earlier in the week, I managed to get the kitchen and bathroom going, but the living room was still filled to the brim with stuff that needed to be taken care of.

I started with the entertainment center by dusting off my DVDs, the shelves that cradle them so lovingly, and the TV. It was at this moment I turned on the satellite radio. Then, I pulled out the couch, removed everything that I shoved behind and underneath it, and vaccuumed. I arranged, organized, and replaced. I put on my ear flap hat, Mr. Longbottom, to bring me strength.

For those of you who don't know, Mr. Longbottom is a tweed hat with furry ear flaps that sit either perched atop the hat or down, protecting my ears. You've seen it before on different heads (usually Lumberjacks), and it's always genius. Particularly in LA where nothing like that is needed EVER.

Suddenly, my body lurched to the left, then to the right. It was moving independent of my will. What caused this? Kenny Loggins singing "Footloose" on the Sirius player. I was singing, doing the running man, and spanking my own bottom. I was truly working it, as the kids say. My windows were open and I was not wearing an appropriate amount of clothes. And I was still wearing Mr. Longbottom. It was a sight.

As the room became more and more suitable for public consumption, I became bold. The Mighty G had called after my dance-a-thon and planted an idea in my head. I had to pick up my car at the dealership that is super far away...what better excuse to take a nice, leisurely bus ride to go get it?! It would be an adventure.

I love talking to the Mighty G. She makes me less upper-middle class, and more down to earth. She's the one who told me I should be collecting unemployment when I got canned, for crying out loud! If it weren't for her, I'd actually NEED a job! Thank Goodness for my little Mexican friend showing me how to stick it to the man.

Anyway, I planned my trip out online and discovered that I would only have to connect once, and the whole thing would take me an hour. Who cares?! The $2.25 it would take from my pocket was way less than I was going to give LeezyB for taking me. Although I would miss my partner-in-crime's sparkling conversation and rapier wit, just think of all the rich characters I would meet on public transportation! I would be one of the people! Finally, I could live life like a regular, average, downtrodden, filthy person! Hoorah!

I walked to the first bus stop. Already, this was an a-typical experience, because the weather was lovely. I wouldn't even be sweating if I was waiting in the sunlight (which I wasn't, thanks to a perfect tree right over the bus stop). Even though I was mildly disappointed, I jangled the exact change in my pocket and paced around the bus stop. People driving past slowed, riasing their eyebrows. More than one mouthed, "Are you okay?" I was confused and kept feeling ym face to make sure Iwasn't bleeding or anything when I realized that to some, I didn't really look like a Los Angeles Metro Rider.

I was wearing a teal tank top and my gaucho pants, complete with bright green clogs and huge sunglasses. There was also a blue and green scarf around my waist that tied the whole outfit together. I guess the commuters in Hollywood Hills aren't used to seeing such skillful accessorizing for a ride on a nasty bus.

When I got on the first bus, there was an abundance of seats. No one looked crazy or violent. The ride passed uneventfully, with me listening to a very large man postulating that speed reading can change one's life for the better as his young female riding companion listened with her eyes wide.

I made my connection effortlessly, and began the long leg of the trip. I made the mistake of sitting in the front seats that are reserved for seniors and the disabled, and when we got into the Russian/Armenian part of town, some old people gave me filthy looks even when I offered one gentleman my seat. They talked about me in their language for several blocks, and so I just sat really close to the old woman of the group and giggled in her ear a lot. The smile never left my face. This was fun! Being accosted by people from other countries is what living is all about! God Bless America!

Here's what I want to know: what if you offer someone your seat who looks elderly to you, then they get all offended because they're not that old? I was only confident offering my seat to that one man because he was obviously older than Methuselah. The rest of them weren't even sighing heavily when they walked up the steps. They had a glimmer of hope left in their eyes, and were sometimes even carrying things. How am I to judge when someone is truly old enough to need to sit down right away?

This is why I don't ride the bus, I think. After my ride, I am also convinced that this is the reason one of my friends hates old people. Even after I offered the man my seat, he was judging me in a foreign language. Glad I had my shades on. I looked stylish AND unaffected!

The trip took exactly as long as the webbernet said it would. I retrieved my freshly washed car, turned on the AC, and sighed happily. However, I am inclined to take the bus to work this morning.

Nahhh. g