(no subject)
In the last month or so I've had several really nice conversations with random people on the street while waiting for the bus. So on Sunday, coming home from work, I didn't just ignore the guy asking me for money.
First he wanted to hear what I had playing in my headphones*. I let him listen to Pavement for a few seconds. He complained that it lacked "de Mega-Bass -- it gotta have de Mega-Bass!" He looked me up and down, complimented me on how I was dressed, then got real suspicious for a second. "You ain't ... gay, are yuh?" I assured him I wasn't*. He claimed that I should remember him from earlier; I assured him I'd been at work all day and had never seen him before in my life. He was wavering pretty bad, almost spilling the malt liquor he had in a paper soda cup. The money demands started with him asking for $10. I fished around in my pocket, found a quarter*, told him that was all the cash I had on me. He stuck it in his pocket, then started spinning a story about a woman in Tacoma he was trying to go see. He really needed to get laid, y'see, and the $10 would help with that.
In the two minutes I sat there, I denied I had any cash 10 times, easily. Finally, the 8 appeared just as he began to get an edge in his voice. He slightly-too-loudly asked me if I knew what a slut did. I said I didn't, but here's my bus, and jumped on. Sat down, put headphones on, relieved that he seemed to be just hanging out at the bus stop rather than getting on.
You can see it coming, can't you?
He gets on just before the doors close. I pointedly scoot over next to the aisle*, and don't move back over when he wavers in front of me. He sits down across the aisle from me, next to a woman who now hates me. The edge in his voice is still there. He continues to harangue me, jumping from women to the war, all in that self-obsessed framework drunks tend to have. As we ride, he keeps leaning back into the woman sitting next to him. At one point I point this out to him*. He leans back and vaguely threatens the woman. I'm starting to get really pissed, and tell him he can't do that.
And here's where it got really bad. "What you think this is, Lousiana?! Texas? You tell me where I can and can't sit? You fucking..." I sputter, telling him he is way out of bounds, that I said no such thing. He leans back right in the woman's face and tells her, "I'm going to stab you in your eyes. You won' see no more." I'm totally freaking out that I'm actually going to have to get physically involved with this nutjob, that he's going to throw his booze at me or the woman, or pull a real knife or something, but he staggers to his feet and towards the front door. "I'm gonna stab you. You won' have no more eyes!" The bus driver (silent this whole time) opens the door, and the drunk exits.
"I think he meant 'Merry Christmas,' but was just confused," said one passenger in between my apologies to the woman.
*: In retrospect, this may have been an error.
First he wanted to hear what I had playing in my headphones*. I let him listen to Pavement for a few seconds. He complained that it lacked "de Mega-Bass -- it gotta have de Mega-Bass!" He looked me up and down, complimented me on how I was dressed, then got real suspicious for a second. "You ain't ... gay, are yuh?" I assured him I wasn't*. He claimed that I should remember him from earlier; I assured him I'd been at work all day and had never seen him before in my life. He was wavering pretty bad, almost spilling the malt liquor he had in a paper soda cup. The money demands started with him asking for $10. I fished around in my pocket, found a quarter*, told him that was all the cash I had on me. He stuck it in his pocket, then started spinning a story about a woman in Tacoma he was trying to go see. He really needed to get laid, y'see, and the $10 would help with that.
In the two minutes I sat there, I denied I had any cash 10 times, easily. Finally, the 8 appeared just as he began to get an edge in his voice. He slightly-too-loudly asked me if I knew what a slut did. I said I didn't, but here's my bus, and jumped on. Sat down, put headphones on, relieved that he seemed to be just hanging out at the bus stop rather than getting on.
You can see it coming, can't you?
He gets on just before the doors close. I pointedly scoot over next to the aisle*, and don't move back over when he wavers in front of me. He sits down across the aisle from me, next to a woman who now hates me. The edge in his voice is still there. He continues to harangue me, jumping from women to the war, all in that self-obsessed framework drunks tend to have. As we ride, he keeps leaning back into the woman sitting next to him. At one point I point this out to him*. He leans back and vaguely threatens the woman. I'm starting to get really pissed, and tell him he can't do that.
And here's where it got really bad. "What you think this is, Lousiana?! Texas? You tell me where I can and can't sit? You fucking..." I sputter, telling him he is way out of bounds, that I said no such thing. He leans back right in the woman's face and tells her, "I'm going to stab you in your eyes. You won' see no more." I'm totally freaking out that I'm actually going to have to get physically involved with this nutjob, that he's going to throw his booze at me or the woman, or pull a real knife or something, but he staggers to his feet and towards the front door. "I'm gonna stab you. You won' have no more eyes!" The bus driver (silent this whole time) opens the door, and the drunk exits.
"I think he meant 'Merry Christmas,' but was just confused," said one passenger in between my apologies to the woman.
*: In retrospect, this may have been an error.