Nothing But Time and a Fucked Up Mind

Going to the work in the morning means biking or bussing and with "spring" finally here I've been biking more. That said: the bike is currently out of commission until I have time to fix it, which probably won't be for a little while as finals doth loom yonder.

///"Loom," always brings forth images of creepy pale people in black robes with ash-filled skies and gouts of flame in the backround.///

So, without my favorite method of rolling, I'm back on the bus. I'm more than okay with public transportation and everything, so it's no big deal.

Riding the bus is awesome in terms of people watching, in particular the bus stop. My stop is fairly busy, about four other people use it and this is at 5:25 in the morning. One of these people is an middle-aged blue-collar dude. Cooler lunch, mustache, sports team jacket, baseball cap, the whole shebang. Everyday, this guy waits about half a block from the bus stop, under a store's veranda, smoking. When he sees the bus coming he walks over, some times finishing up the smoke and pitching the butt.

I could never really figure out why he didn't smoke over by the bus stop, it's not like it would bother any of us. At least until this morning when he got in line behind me. As he walks over, gets behind me, and starts fumbling for his bus pass, a waft of stickiest passes over me.

Looks like the old guy liked his green and wasn't to keen on being asked to share.

-Thomas