We all know I take the bus. It's my earth-friendly public-transportation cost-effective ride to and from work. There are stories, oh so many stories about the bus people. People saying things, doing things, which I suspect will eventually lead me to the end of my proverbial rope. People talking about their ex-boyfriends sex fetishes (right next to me), people who wear hand-knit tank tops under un-buttoned button-down shirts, and people who check their blood sugar. I've learned the best way to deal with this is to wear headphones and sunglasses at all times. But, it's just not always avoidable.
I was walking toward my bus stop when a man approaches me and says, "Excuse me, can I ask you a question?" I'm thinking YOU JUST DID, but I look at him and keep walking, indicating, yes, you can ask me a question, but make it fast because I'm not stopping. I expect he's going to ask me for a dollar, or where the bus is, or whatever.
He starts, "Hi, I'm Roland." I stare blankly. "Do you know anything about prescription medication?" I stare more. "See, I'm from Arizona, and I was stabbed seven times last week." WHAT?! So I reply, "Listen, if you're in pain, you need to go to the emergency room." "No, I've been there ya see? Do you know what a colostomy bag is?"
This is where I made my mistake. I was nearly one hundred percent sure I knew what it was, but decided maybe if I played dumb he'd go away. Instead he lifted his shirt to show me stab wound bandages and a fucking colostomy bag. I cringed, yelled through my hands covering my face while looking away, "If you need medication there's a pharmacy right there. Ask them." And I ran away while he apologized profusely to the back of my head for scaring me.
No comments:
Post a Comment