When Robert (his real name) walked on the N Judah last night, I had no idea how much trouble he would cause. My first thougth was that he was quite good looking (that impression lasted all of a microsecond). Tallish, clean-cut, baseball cap, big blue eyes. It wasn't until I looked in his eyes that I noticed something was wrong. I thought the trouble was already on the bus-- the drunken homeless man who was complaining loudly of being burned at the barges, and was lurching all over the aisle. The drunken hippies who were sitting on the floor, playing with people's shoe laces, shouting invictives against "the man". The massive, fruity black dude who hit me up for my unpaid fare (mea culpa... the first time in my life I EVER shirked paying fare... but the line was long, the hour was late). I took refuge in the doorwell with the Contessa as the bus was filled to capacity and beyond. The riders packed themselves in like slaves in a ship. Robert soon noticed that the MFBD was taking up two seats (a quick word about the trains... they were designed for midget amputees... I found that the seats were even small for me, and the leg room is equivalent to flying coach).
R: What makes you so special that you get two seats?
MFBD coolly ignores him.
R: HEY! I am talking to you! WHAT MAKES YOU SO SPECIAL THAT YOU GET TWO SEATS?
MFBD continues to listen to his rainblow colored walkman. I noticed he has black fingernails and he has bleached the tips of his fro.
R: Are you a NINER'S FAN!
MFBD nods affirmative.
R: WELL, I AM A RAIDER'S FAN! I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU PEOPLE COME FROM. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?
At this point, the tension on the bus has risen dramatically. People are glancing nervously at other riders and away from the scene. I fight the urge to laugh, the whole thing was so ridiculous. Move over Rosa Parks, the MFBD is my new hero.
MFBD remains nonplussed and does nothing to egg him on. Wise man. Robert continues to harangue him, finally the MFBD explodes.
MFBD: ARE YOU AN OLD LADY?
ARE YOU DISABLED?
(and finally the piece de resistance)
ARE YOU MAH GIRL?
At that he stood up (all 6'6" of him). It took a lot of doing, by then the aisle was gone, and the crowd was solid mass. He turned to two white middle-aged ladies and politely inquired if they would like a seat. He installed them in his former space.
But Robert wasn't done. He flopped onto their laps. Instead of screaming and shoving him off, the Blond One started stroking his chest and calling him her "big guy." To my growing shock and horror, they exchanged pleasantries. The Blond One introduced her two sisters...
TBO: WE ARE THE HORN GIRLS! Yeah, HORN is our last name.
They were very drunk.
Robert started fumbling with his backpack, and one of the hippies grabbed something that fell out of it. Robert snatched it out of his hand. It was a baggie of green pellets (ok, I am drug virgin, it looked very suspicious, I heard someone say "bud"). Suddenly TBO had two twenties in her hand. They had a transaction. She told him about her handsome, 27-year-old son who grows pot. All this time, she continues to stroke Robert in an erotically maternal way. The tension had long fled.
We got off at the next stop, so did all the other players.