What's That In Your Hair?

Dear Popo,

I had what I would classify as a traumatic experience on the bus this morning.  They recently moved our bus stop farther from the house so they can start working on the new MAX line.  The new bus stop is probably only two blocks from the old one, but for some reason it feels like it’s an additional mile.  I can’t bring myself to walk the additional mile every morning, so I’ve started driving to the park-and-ride a few minutes from the house.  This has been a good compromise with Dustin, because my other option would be driving in to work, and parking costs $10.  The good thing about driving to the park-and-ride is that I’m almost guaranteed a seat, and don’t have to stand in the aisle.

I get car (bus) sick these days, much more than I used to.  I find that if I get a seat facing towards the front of the bus I do just fine.  But if I get stuck with one of those sideways seats (the ones where you try to avoid staring at the person across from you, but ultimately make eye contact multiple times which makes you feel obligated to smile and or start-up a conversation) I start getting sick after just a few stops.  Today was one of those mornings when I got stuck in a sideways seat.  The guy across from me was fairly attractive, though about 10 years older and I felt awkward looking at him.  Attractive men always make me feel awkward – I remember the time at Safeway where I was chatting with the check-out guy (he started it) and after a few minutes of conversation he abruptly said “I’m married!”  I realized I’d forgotten to wear my wedding ring and apparently he felt that casual conversation with a woman equated to “she wants to bone me, right here in the dairy section of the supermarket.”  Ever since then, I have trouble with attractive guys and I want to blurt out “I’m married this is ONLY a conversation “anytime I see one.  Or maybe I should have a t-shirt made...

Anyway, partially because I was beginning to get nauseated and partially because I was feeling awkward occasionally catching the eye of the guy seated across from me, once a forward-facing seat opened up in the back, I darted for it.  I didn’t realize, until after I sat down, that the guy who had vacated the seat had moved to a different one towards the front of the bus.  At first, this wasn’t a red flag because sometimes people need to talk to the driver if they aren’t sure what stop to get off at.  But then, I started hearing it…this weird sound, like when you rub your hands together quickly.  But maybe you aren’t rubbing two hands together, maybe you’re rubbing one hand against another something that sounds like it’s also covered in a skin-type material.  The rubbing seemed to quicken after a few moments, the tempo slowly increasing every few seconds.  I knew there was a man sitting behind me – and I couldn’t fathom what he could be doing that would make that kind of sound, except for one thing. 

There was no way I was going to turn around, but suddenly I was thinking that maybe the other guy had moved to the front of the bus because he was aware something fishy was going on behind him.  You know when you see a spider and even though you know it’s not walking on you, you start feeling like you’re covered in spiders?  I knew, if the guy behind me was doing what I thought he was doing, he was far enough away from me that it wouldn’t impact me in any way  when he got to his stopping point.  However, I started picturing that scene from Something About Mary and became concerned that maybe, just maybe, I might have a big glob of something on my coat or in my hair by the time I got off the bus.  And what if I did, how do you handle that situation? “Excuse me sir, I spent the time to wash, dry and style my hair this morning and I don’t appreciate what you have now deposited on me.  Do you happen to have a handkerchief?”  The rubbing sound stopped just before we crossed the bridge into downtown and then I heard the sound of a paper bag crinkling.  I’ve been too scared to reach up and touch the back of my head since the incident, but since it’s nearly noon and no one has pulled me aside to point-out a glob of ejaculate in my hair, I think whatever was deposited probably went into the paper bag.

This is why I hate riding public transportation.  It is possible the fellow was doing something totally innocent, maybe trying to iron his pants with his hands because he didn’t have time to use his dryer this morning, like the rest of us lazy people.  The problem is, I’ve had so many crazy public transportation interactions (the guy that pulled the knife on me on the Broadway bus and the homeless guy who told me I had pretty teeth, then smiled to show that he had absolutely no teeth) that my mind immediately goes to something horrific.

The good news is that I was super tired this morning because I didn’t sleep well last night.  But I found the incident on the bus was better than two shots of espresso (graphic pun not intended) and I am wide now wide awake.

Love,

Kiki