Jun
30
2008
Nap Required
Roll up to the bus stop, 7am Saturday. Sun-rippled morning, warm and growing, grass scorching into the weekend. Last night’s stuff still visible: chip bags and half-cracked cigarette packs, forgotten running shoes & deadpan tatters of denim, gasoline pumps still drowsing. Guy sleeping on the bench in the shelter. Gray hoodie wrapped around his frame: 18, 20 at best. I’d say he’s stepping through last night’s wreckage, and that might hold true, but he could be homeless too. Street-dirty pants, shirt three weeks from a wash, blackened shoe leather. Most interesting detail is that he’s cuddled up to a big box of donuts with only 2 left inside (one of those windowed boxes), one of which has a half-moon bite out of it. Odd opening scene this far from downtown.
Glance down the avenue for the 4. She’ll be a bit yet. Kick the sand and think about the bake that’ll wash over this city in about two hours. We live for this shit…and it doesn’t last. Few minutes later the 4 rolls up with that diesel bake, a full 10 minutes early. Board, back seat curbside. Donut guy snoozes on the bench outside for a few minutes and then suddenly, like he got clocked with a sack of ball peens, he shoots up and boards the bus. All 150 pounds of hammered ass, he manages to keep his shit tied long enough to crash into the back seat, right beside me. Throws his box of donuts on the floor, lays down across the seat. I’m sure he spent the night in that bus shack. His hair’s scuttled into an unintentional fauxhawk and he smells like ass. He’s far enough way, I hope.
Driver strolls back to wake the guy up. You can’t sleep on the bus, sir. No protest except for a gargled grunt. Guy rises slowly and grabs a proper seat so he can at least look like he’s not sleeping. Bus pulls off the curb and heads west down Whyte. Along the way buddy pulls out a donut and stuffs it into his hole with a rare kind of overdone enthusiasm, moaning and smearing sugar paste all over his face like he just ran a batch off. Gets about halfway through the donut and decides it’s time to sleep again. Curls up on the seat, cradling his last donut. Bus hits a bump and buddy’s head slams into the seat in front of him with a deadass thud, disrupting an old woman. Guy says nothing, marble-mouths an apology. I try to contain my amusement, can’t help but laugh out loud. Guy gives me a bit of a look, but by the depths of the red spiderwebs in his whites, he’s not up for much. I get off a few minutes later chuckling to myself and hoping the guy finds his way.
