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Mar. 31, 2005 I swept my hair up into a quick ponytail and shoved my college books into my workout bag next to my gym clothes. I was glad to be in good shape; I was always chasing after my buses! Now I was waiting at Broadway, downtown where Denver’s true culture could be observed in its beautiful stark reality. Denver is a cultural, artistic city, filled with people of talent. There are lots of art galleries here, and the music scene is fantastic. I worked part-time for a tiny independent record company and was rushing yet again to make it to the office on time. A homeless man approached me asking for money. I smirked. “I’m in college, I have no money,” I said, but I handed him what was left over from my lunch. He grunted and took it. Within five minutes, a drunk guy tossed a beer bottle my way. I dodged it and practically ran up the bus stairs when the bus arrived. A large man sat right down next to me and wrapped his arm around me. “I love you,” he declared. “But you don’t know me.” Before I knew it, two gang members approached us. I started to tremble. They gave the gentlemen embracing me a fierce look. “Kindly remove your arm from the lady.” They stared him down. The gentlemen slowly pulled his arm off of me and went to the back of the bus. They looked at me and smiled and informed me rather sweetly that they were guardian angels. My face lit up in gratitude. I thanked them. They nodded and left me alone. Okay, that was Monday. Tuesday arrived. Today the bus driver hit on me. Wednesday made its appearance. I found myself walking a bit more, analyzing the bus charts. “Aha!” I found another bus that could take me to my destination. I ran in that direction. Thursday. What interesting crap is going to happen on public transportation today? This jovial African-American man belted out show tunes like there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow. He was great! Everyone on the bus cheered and asked him to sing another. He told us that he was the world’s only African-American leprechaun. The bus driver recorded him and later played back the tape. This was a good bus day. Friday. I am exhausted. What a week. I nodded off, putting my arm protectively over my bag as the bus drove off. Suddenly I heard a loud commotion and woke up. Some teenagers were shouting obscenities. The bus driver pulled over and locked the doors of the bus. I was looking around nervously. The police came and climbed aboard. They took the angry boys away who were shouting, “F$#* this!” and “F%$&* that!” I looked down. There was a paper sticking out of my bag, next to my violin. I pulled it out. It was a man’s name and phone-number. It had been placed there when I was sleeping. When I went home, my husband asked me how my week had been. He had worked the night shift so we hadn’t had the chance to talk much. “Oh, pretty mellow on the bus this week compared to normal. Not as much interesting stuff as usual.” (I was not being sarcastic) “I’ll tell you this much though, riding the bus will teach you to keep your eyes and your mind open.” (Seemingly these are contradictions, but they are not; think about it.) ------------ About the author Laura N. Hogg: I am currently trying to get my novels and stories published. I have a short story called, "Judge" that is going to be published by the e-zine "Sage of Consciousness" in May of 2005. Email: L_Hogg@comcast.net Tell a friend about this site! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com. Please link to this article rather than copying and pasting it onto your site (which would be unauthorized and illegal). |
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