#5 Bus, headed east on Jasper Avenue, 5:00 pm, Tuesday.
I'm seated at a window seat on the driver's side of the bus, about three rows back. The bus stops at the Edmonton General to pick up some passengers and a guy gets on, maybe 18 or so. Dressed in black pants and a white track jacket, the guy and his j-roc inspired apparel (he must have lost his visor, it was a windy day) walks over and sits down on the seat next to me.
Guy: "Hey, how are you doing?"
I don't even notice he's talking to me because I'm listening to my mp3 player. I realize he's talking to me so I look at him and realize that I don't recognize him at all.
"uh?"
"So you're shy, I see that. So how's your day going?"
"Oh, fine thanks. How is your day going?"
"Yeah I like to talk to people. It's hard to meet people, so I like to talk to people on the bus. But only ladies"
"Ohhh okay i see" - trying to humour him
"So are you coming home from school? Work? Or what?"
"Just going home after work. You?"
"Do you have an ipod?"
Yeah buddy why should I tell you..."yeah"
He pulls out an old cassette walkman "this is old school and I think it's better than an ipod. It has radio and that's all you need"
"I used to have one of those"
I stare out the window for a minute while he adjusts his radio.
"My brother punched me in the mouth yesterday. It's still hurting".
...
Silence for a few minutes. I'm not even going to bother responding to that. Many years of taking the bus has taught me to never give anyone an invitation. Give them an invite to blabber endlessly to you and they will almost always take advantage of it.
I fold my hands on my lap and go back to listening to my music and staring out the window and concentrating really hard on the buildings we pass. I stare at the CKUA building as the bus goes by and realize for the first time that there's more building behind than you can see at the street level. The lady across the aisle gets off the bus so the boy swiftly gets up and takes her seat. Eventually he gets bored of that and goes and talks to the bus driver. I can hear him saying something to the bus driver about traffic. I take a better look at his face. Doesn't look like he was punched, but maybe it's hard to tell.
We both get off the bus near the Union Bank Inn. He stands outside the front door of the bus, looking down the street with no obvious desire to go in any particular direction. I pass him on my way to 100 Street to catch the #8. I look back before I turn the corner and he's gone in the other direction. The 8 arrives and I get on and go home.
