The teacher had recommended using the people around you for inspiration. Especially the people on the bus. You've often heard me talk about people on the train. People on the bus are on a whole other level... of crazy... of weird... of please don't sit next to me!
The teacher said that if you really wanted some good characters that you should check out the #36 Broadway bus. One of my fellow students chimed in that her friend calls that bus "Farside on Wheels." Which is kind of hilarious.
I don't ride the #36, but my own bus line has plenty of fun people on it. In fact, I often wonder if the people are actors who've been hired to act weirdly just to mess with me. Sort of like flash mobs who just break into song and surprise the unsuspecting public.
Last night's bus ride started off normal enough. I caught the bus (after running down the steps of the train station) just before the doors closed AND I got a seat which I mistakenly thought was a sign that it was going to be a good ride.
Of course the woman two seats down decides that right now would be a really good time to have a super loud telephone conversation. I won't repeat the entire thirty minute conversation- just my favorite line: "Hey, how's your brother doing? Is he dead?"
Nice.
And then crazy dude got on. I couldn't see him from my seat but I could see the faces of the other passengers who COULD see him and they looked nervous. That's never a good sign.
Crazy dude was talking very slow. And confused. Was he on drugs? Was he crazy? Was he just a bit slow?
He paid his entire $2.25 fare in coins. And considering how long it took, I am guessing not many of those coins were quarters. And he kept telling the driver the address he needed to get off at.
So he finally comes and sits down a few seats from me and I got a look at his face. And I almost vomited. His bottom lip was swollen (to about four times the size of Angelina Jolie's lips!) and it was split in the middle with this yellow pus that was dried and cracked where the lip had split.
He turns to the girl sitting next to him, a Mexican girl who is reading a book in Spanish, and goes, "How you doin'? You are so pretty." She had the good sense to just ignore him. Mind you, she probably only spoke Spanish anyways.
So thankfully he leaves her alone and is all turning in his seat to look at people in the back of the bus.
At this point this young black teenage boy tries to get on the bus, but he just missed it by a few seconds, so he pounded on the door to get the bus driver to open back up. Which he did not do. So the boy chased down the bus and at the next street the driver pulled over for him (which he is NOT supposed to do) and he got on and was super happy to have made it on the bus.
So the kid goes to take a seat at the back of the bus and accidentally brushes the crazy guy a little bit (mainly because he was hanging half way into the aisle to stare at people in the back of the bus.)
So of course the crazy guy goes...wait for it, wait for it... crazy!
Starts yelling at the kid about how he doesn't care how young he is, but the young kid hit him (which apparently is what they call it when someone gently brushes you these days) and how he won't hesitate to put a cap in his head. That's right, I will take a gun and shoot you. And I has a gun on me right now. And I will take out this gun. Yes I will. I have a gun on me right now. My gun's name is Jesus.
I thankfully never learned whether this guy was bluffing or not. He settled down and started asking people for money instead and I got the hell off the bus.
But I can't write characters like that. Nobody would believe characters like that in a story. They are too big. Too melodramatic. Too crazy.
Um, have I ever mentioned by the way how much I HATE the bus?!? I hurried home for a big hug and a big glass of red wine. And Mike was waiting with a grilled cheese made with humboldt fog and suddenly everything was okay with the world again and I am willing to face the world for another day.
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