Delilah and I took the bus to visit Ray at work today. We were sitting toward the front, facing forward, when two strange men boarded and plopped right in front of us in the sideways seats. This was odd because those are the seats reserved for the elderly and disabled, and there were plenty of regular seats available.
They sat across from each other talking loudly, one of them drinking out of a can of malt liquor. The drinker looked and acted like a punk rocker type, a lot like Flea only less grounded. The other just looked homeless but clean.
The punk rocker spoke in shouts, sometimes angrily about record contracts, sometimes happily about his plan to buy a cabin in the woods. He’d sometimes glance toward me and Delilah as if he wanted to engage us in conversation. Please don’t, I thought. I don’t like crazy people around my daughter.
As a bus rider, I see many weirdoes and crazies on a regular basis, but they rarely scare me. This one, however, was particularly unnerving not only because of his volatile nature but because he was in close proximity to Delilah.
He kept fidgeting wildly, making me wonder if he has a disease that affects motor coordination.
When Delilah asked if our stop, Fairfax, was coming up, he repeated “Fairfax!”
He chuckled to himself, “Fairfax, huh! FAIR FACTS!”
I avoided eye contact and pretended that I didn’t hear, but my annoyance was turning into anger now. Fortunately he left soon after that, and we relaxed a bit.
But then when we arrived at Fairfax, the homeless guy got off too and trailed us down the street. He asked for a few dollars and I said no, so he asked for some change. I again said no and then he asked if I knew where he could get some work. I again said no and he kept talking about how he was homeless and he wanted to find some work at a restaurant.
“I can sweep and mop,” he said. “I can mop tables and clean up.”
After many “no’s” from me, he finally gave up and walked away.