Minority Retort

I just read an article about the 2003 film "The Last Samurai," and I was reminded of a story one of my good friends told me.

If you're unfamiliar with the plot of this movie, Tom Cruise plays an American military officer who is training Japanese soldiers in the 1870s and eventually embraces the samurai culture. It's basically Dances With Wolves, but with katanas instead of tatonkas. 

Anyhoo, my friend went to this movie in the theatre. During the first scene in which our hero dons traditional samurai garb, there was a startled outburst from several rows back. 

"What the -- I didn't know Tom Cruise was Chinese!"

Hi, My Name Is

A couple weeks ago, I boarded a bus home from work, as I am wont to do.  It was crowded, and I ended up crammed into the very back. Across from me sat a guy in his mid-20s who had just returned from a year serving in Afghanistan and was severely disappointed in everyone who dared look at a smart phone during this ride.  If you're wondering how I could possibly know that much personal information about a stranger, it's because he told me.

Sipping what I can only assume was liquor from an obscured can, he started his tirade with a Malcolm X-like "Look at yourselves!" before going on a loud public shaming spree.  We shouldn't be on our phones!  We should be having conversations!  This isn't what society's about!  We gotta have community! We gotta talk to each other!  We gotta make connections!

Ironically, his outbursts prompted me to do exactly what he was railing against.  I averted my eyes and tried to disappear.  Nobody engage him, please nobody engage him . . . . nope.  Idiot next to me chimed in with an argument that people used to read newspapers on public transit, and how was that any different?

"Come on, man!  We ain't talkin' bout newspapers.  You know that's just propaganda!"

I had to admire his conviction.  He was like an overly aggressive, anti-establishment motivational speaker who was dropping knowledge on us.

"You should talk to people!  Say hello!"  He then started gesturing at random people sitting around him.  "See this guy?  Introduce yourself!  Maybe he knows something you don't!  Maybe that lady over there marched during Civil Rights!  Maybe that dude's been through something that you don't understand!  Like this lady over here . . ."

And he pointed squarely in my direction.

"She might be a fuckin' . . . nuclear . . . geophysicist!  You don't fuckin' know!"

I was torn.  On one hand, I'd been singled out, and I hate attention.  But on the other hand, he thought I looked smart enough to be a nuclear geophysicist.  So . . . I called it a wash and simply smiled back.  Hey, man.  Let's find some answers.

Oversight

My bus pulled up to a stop this morning and, as happens about 75% of the time on this route, a person in a wheelchair was waiting to board. However, on this particular day, there was already someone in a motorized chair strapped into the available space, and a visually impaired gentleman occupied another seat up front.

"I'm sorry! I can't take you right now," the driver yelled to the person waiting. He then attempted to elaborate.

"I've already got a wheelchair and a guy . . .a guy here who's . . . who's . . . . . . ."

The entire bus fell awkwardly silent as he searched for the word.

Until the visually impaired man simply yelled, "BLIND!"

Amid a burst of laughter from the passengers, the driver apologized. "Right. Sorry, I was looking for something more politically correct."

"That's okay, I don't care. It is what it is."

What a cool guy. He'd named it and owned it, and in the process rescued us all.

In This Corner: Yahweh

It's been quite a while since I had an eventful bus ride. But the other morning, about twenty minutes into my trip, a man hopped on board and immediately began talking about Jesus. I'm not sure if only crazy people talk about the Lord in public, or if we automatically brand someone as crazy simply BECAUSE they talk about the Lord in public. It's probably a mix of both. In any case, I think it's great if you have a personal relationship with Jesus, but shouting about it typically makes everyone else uncomfortable.

Anyway, the driver had allowed this man to ride without paying, which was evidently a cause for great (and vocal) celebration. At the next stop, a middle-aged woman who looked like she had lived pretty damn hard stepped on. After listening to the man's high praise for his divine Metro Transit intervention, she said that she thought it was great to be thankful, and that she woke up every day with gratitude to Jesus.

This, I thought, was a very nice comment, and I'll admit I started feeling a little warm and fuzzy. Then the following exchange began.

MAN:  "Yep, the Lord has helped me through some tough times. Tough times."

WOMAN: "I hear you."

MAN:  "I mean really tough times."

WOMAN: "Oh, I know about tough times."

ME:  (Oh my God, they're going to try to one-up each other. Thank you, Jesus!)

MAN: "Yeah, I been through a lot."

WOMAN:  "I have, too."

MAN: "Lost a lot of people."

WOMAN: "Me, too."

MAN:  "I mean, I been to prison."

WOMAN:  "I been to prison, too."

At this point, I feel like the woman saw where this was going and decided the gloves were off.

WOMAN:  "I even been a prostitute!"

Complete silence on the bus for about ten long seconds.

WOMAN: (yelling to all passengers) "YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT! I DON'T CARE WHO HEARS IT!"

K.O., ma'am! Can I get an amen?

Eavesdroppin'

And now, the top three snippets of conversation I overheard while walking around an art fair today:

3. (woman) "Or you could just lick your toe."

2. (small child) "But I only threw up a little."

1. (woman) "Okay, Mr. Big Watch, what time is it, then?"

Luke, I Am Your Tenderfooted Father

I'm growing increasingly aware of the need to avoid judging books by their covers.

I used to ride the bus with a rather large man who would sit and talk with the bus driver for the entire trip, trading lines from movies and comedy specials. If I hadn't heard him joking around, I might have been terrified by the size and sound of this guy. He had one of the deepest, most sonorous voices I've ever heard. Everything about him seemed scary and powerful . . . until he told the following story.

Several years ago, he was awakened in the middle of the night by some noises on his front lawn. When he looked out the window, he saw a group of teenagers toilet papering his house. Knowing that they were his son's classmates, he decided to give them a scare.

He exploded out the front door in his pajamas, bellowing like a crazy person. When the kids piled into a van and took off, he chased them down the street. He could hear screams from inside the vehicle: "Darth Vader's gonna kill us!"

Finally, the van managed to outdistance him, and the frightened teenagers escaped into the night. That was when he realized that he'd rushed outside with no shoes on. And, because he hated being barefoot, he was forced to hop gingerly back to his house. "Imagine what those kids would have thought," he laughed, "Seeing Darth Vader tiptoeing down the street!"

Of course, this was also the guy who said that, after watching the movie Candyman, he was huddled in his bed with "all the lights in the house on AND a flashlight."

Dark Lord, indeed.

Cutting In

One one of my recent visits to get my hair cut, there was a young guy in the chair behind me who came in with a special request. He was going to be starring in a play, and he needed his hair cut appropriately for the role. His stylist was the most earnest and possibly most oblivious woman I've ever heard try to carry on a conversation. She desperately wanted to participate in a meaningful dialogue, but she jumped to conclusions so quickly that it sounded like this:

MAN:  "I'm in this play . . ."

STYLIST:  "Ohhhhh, so like Shakespeare."

MAN:  "No, this production is set in the Old West, and  . . ."

STYLIST:  "So you're looking for like a 1920s thing."

MAN:  "I think more like the 1890s, but  . . ."

STYLIST:  "Ohhhhh, okay. Can you imagine how gross and dirty people's hair was back then? I suppose it doesn't matter much cuz you'll be wearing a cowboy hat."

MAN:  "Well, actually, my character's from the city. The Ricochet Kid."

STYLIST:  "What?"

MAN:  "I'm known for being able to shoot people by bouncing bullets off of things."

STYLIST: "Ohhhhhhhhhh. So like The Matrix."

MAN: (sigh) "Not exactly."

At this point my stylist stopped snipping away because we both had the giggles. I'm lucky I didn't lose an ear.

Unreasonable

On my way to work the other morning, my bus driver stopped and waited through a couple traffic lights. Normally I find it quite annoying to just sit stalled while the rest of the metro passes us by, but I understand the reason for it. Unfortunately, the lady in front of me did not.

"What's the holdup?" she snapped.

"I'm ahead of schedule," the driver replied.

"Well, I'M not!"

"Sorry, we just have to wait."

"Unbelievable!"

She then proceeded to whip out her phone and loudly declare to the person who answered (and all of us) that she was GOING TO BE LATE THIS MORNING because her bus was RUNNING BEHIND.

Now, I've been riding metro transit daily for 7 years, and 98% of the time I'm in my desk chair at 8:55 on the dot. However, riding the bus does not guarantee you arrive at your destination on time, any more than taking a taxi or driving your own car. And I include the train in this, because no mass transit system is immune from obstacles that can crop up to complicate your commute.

I don't understand why some bus riders have such unreasonable expectations. You just paid $2 to essentially have a personal chauffeur drive your ass to work while you sleep, chat, or text rather than fighting through rush hour, paying for gas and parking, and putting excess miles on your vehicle. Granted, that chauffeur cares nothing about your personal comfort and will leave you behind if you're 10 seconds late, but still, it's a bit magical, on par with being able to mail a letter to literally anyone in America for around 40 cents.

I especially don't understand it when people suddenly stand up mid-ride and are shocked to learn that the bus they boarded isn't going exactly where they want it to. They're typically real bastards about it, too, as if the driver just changed his mind and chose a destination that wasn't clearly indicated in lights above his windshield. I'm utterly baffled by this. You can't just leap on a random mode of transport and assume it's headed in your general direction. It would be the equivalent of me running to the airport, boarding the first plane I saw, and then being irate that it wasn't, in fact, going to France.

Because then I'd have to whip out my phone and loudly declare that I COULDN'T TAKE TWO SECONDS TO READ A SCHEDULE and the pilot could not READ MY MIND OR CHANGE COURSE, which I find highly UNREASONABLE.

I bet complaints like that sound even better in French.

Cluck You

This story comes to me by way of a friend of a friend, so I can't take credit for much more than just repeating it ... but I think it's worth repeating.

So this person goes into a certain fast food establishment and is waiting in line. The rather large woman ahead of her orders two buckets of chicken. Without thinking, the cashier asks, "For here or to go?"

The woman, shocked, berates the employee, asking whether the cashier actually thinks she's going to sit down in the restaurant and eat two whole buckets of fried chicken by herself.

In response, the cashier simply yells, "Bitch, I don't know your life!"

Fill in the Blanks

In the spirit of being back to regular, non-vacationey, everyday amusements, I heard a lady on my bus tonight say the following:

"It's the one with Mariska Hargitay. You know. Something, something, SUV."

So ... it's a vague show about sport utility vehicles?

Two Conversations

Understatement of the Year

Woman #1:  You know how you're listening to something in French, and you don't know what they're saying, but it still sounds good?

Woman #2:  There's some countries that you can't even sell their music here in America.  And there's some countries where they've banned American music, too.

Woman #1:  You know who's really nit-picky about that stuff? China.


Two and a Half Men's Ultimate Demographic

Woman #1:  I saw that Jon Cryer on TV.  You know, why don't they ever interview the kid?

Woman #2:  Jake.

Woman #1:  Yeah.  He's supposed to be the half man, but he's bigger than both of 'em.

Woman #2:  You see that ad where they're holding the sign that says "All Will Be Revealed" and they're naked?  That's funny.

Woman #1:  But they have little shorts on underneath. They're not really naked.

Woman #2:  I don't know  . . .

Speak Into My Good Ear

Sometimes, an eavesdropping opportunity comes along that you couldn't have designed better if you'd tried. When I went to catch my bus today, it was drizzling, so I ducked into the bus stop shelter. Just outside, on a bench, was an arguing couple. Not so shockingly, they had some serious issues. But miracle of miracles, they weren't shy about expressing their opinions. What I overheard was this . . .

Woman:  "I'm in school, I got my own shit. I'm doin' just fine. I take care of myself, I pay my own motherfucking bills!"

Man:  "But I still want you."

Woman:  "Why?!"

Man:  "Cuz I LOVE you!"

Woman:  "At least you ain't gotta deal with my mama no more. All that fussin'."

Man:  "Can't you just listen to me?  Just listen.  I seen you out on Nicollet with a nigga who looked like he wanted to find another nigga to pay you!  You puttin' it all out there, and you 53 years old!"

Woman:  "An you LOUD!  You ain't think everybody just heard that?!"

Cut to me, trying so hard to look disinterested and itching for a notebook so badly that my hands were shaking. Because yes, you ARE loud, and everybody DID hear that, and now even more people can enjoy it.

Unintentionally Bootylicious

So this random dude walked by and complimented my ass while I waited at the bus stop yesterday.

"How you doin', you fine, booty (untelligible) thang?"

I'm not quite sure what the specifics were, but it was definitely something booty-related. As I've mentioned before, I'll never understand why my attractiveness demographic is:
A. Middle-aged
B. African-American
C. Typically crazy passersby/panhandlers

But that's the trend. And I'll take it where I can get it, I guess.

When I finally turned around and realized he was talking to me, I immediately started laughing.

"I'm fine," replied.

"Yeah, that's right, you sexy young woman."

And then, as I stepped on the bus, he shouted, "You just made my day!"

Ditto, sir.  Ditto.

Two-Bit Problem

I feel the need to share this, because I'm pretty sure very few people have actually seen what I saw last week on the bus. Toward the end of my ride, a 47-year-old man got on. How do I know his age? Why, because he announced it, of course.

He stood in the aisle, not taking a seat (something that drives me absolutely crazy, when seats are readily available) and instead simply brushing his close-cropped head of hair over and over and over and over. I tend to be unconcerned with people attending to their personal hygiene in transit. Typically, I'm just glad they're attending to it at all. Except for the lady who applied her deodorant en route and then sprayed her perfume, which then drifted directly into my face.

But I digress.

What amazed me about this man was that, when he turned his head, I noticed that he had a quarter in his ear.

Let me just repeat that, to make sure it's clear. In the dude's ear, where you would normally see a hearing aid, let's say, was instead a 25 cent piece, jammed flat across his ear-hole and wedged between the outer edges of said ear.

I didn't know what to make of this, and I still don't. Was it an ingenious way to store his change for the bus? Is it an anti-American statement if you cover George Washington with wax? Or does it simply keep the voices at bay? I was mystified. But kind of intrigued. Because I wasn't sure that just anyone could even pull off such a feat.

For the record, I can. In case you're wondering. Naturally, I had to give it a shot in honor of my new spare change hero. But again, I'm not sure how special this makes me, because I haven't yet inspired anyone else to try it.

Perhaps you'll experiment and let me know?

Quotes of the Week

#1.  Wailed by a gangsta on his cell phone in City Center:  "I ain't gonna get all gooey an' fuckin' sentimental . . . nah . . . nah . . . Mom! . . . She just talks too much shit!"

(He's got 99 problems but his moms ain't one.)

#2.  Wailed by a crusty old man on Hennepin who was ogling young girls:  "Where were all you beautiful ladies when I had hair?!" 

(Sir, I'm no mathematician, but I'm going to go with:  in utero.)

Explicit Eavesdroppin'

The best snippets of bus conversations (from people on their phones) in the last few weeks:

"You need to call up them peoples and they'll find you a dif-ernt day at a dif-ernt time. I don't know what to tell you, homegirl. It's a fuckin' dentist office."

"No, you got problems cuz that money be burnin' a hole in your pocket. You ain't gotta spend it all right away.  Lakisha.  Lakisha.  Laki  . . . listen, bitch!  . . . What forms did you have to fill out? You shoulda talked to me, I might coulda helped you with that."

"I was like, fuck yo birthday! You gon' have lots more of 'em."

"What was it called?  Twat? . . . oh, Twilight.  I saw the first one, but I ain't never got into it.  Cuz that bitch almost died an' shit.  I cain't have that.  If you gon' die, just die, don't do it halfway.  It's a motherfuckin' movie, ain't no one gonna care."

Say What?

Three of the weirdest quotes I've ever heard on the bus. Don't expect context for these, because in many cases, there wasn't any:

"That's the last time I buy a Chinese padlock."

"Fingernails are stupid. But they're useful in self defense."

"Toys for Tots, n----! Toys for Tots!"

As a side note, a homeless guy once approached me at the bus stop and told me I look like Amy Klobuchar. After I gave him 95 cents, he yelled, "Cowabunga, dude!" and ran off. I used to laugh about this occasionally until last week, when I was flipping through Minnesota Monthly and realized that, dammit, I do look like Amy Klobuchar.

Babblin' Crude

Best bus quote of the day, from a guy talking to someone very loudly on his phone about hooking a friend up with a job on an oil rig:

"Well, hopefully he'd be willing to give up the pot. I mean, I like to smoke a little weed, too, but for eighty grand a year with no education and a bad criminal record? That's a blessing. I gotta go. I got anger management today."

Minor Details

Woman to her friend on the bus:

"We was crazy for each other. And my aunt, she was like, you ain't even known each other that long, but boy, I tell you, I prolly woulda married him. But we fell out. I can't even remember why, exactly, but somethin' happened, and we fell out."

Ten minutes later, during a lull in their conversation about an unrelated topic:

"You know what . . . I think he mighta went to prison or something!"

PG-13 + XXX = XOXO

At about 6:00 p.m. yesterday, I ducked into a doorway downtown to wait for a bus. A couple, about my age, ducked in soon after to wait while "that clown brings the car around." They had just seen "Little Fockers," which neither of them enjoyed, but they were in good spirits and seemed open about their plans for the rest of the evening.

The woman kept teasing the man about how he couldn't handle the cold, and he kept trying to convince her to eat at a nearby restaurant (presumably so he didn't have to go back outside again). Then their conversation took an interesting turn:

MAN: "Well where you wanna go, then?"
WOMAN:  "I don't know. Gimme your thoughts."
MAN: "Sex World."
WOMAN: "What? I just asked for your thoughts."
MAN: "And I gave 'em. We goin' to Sex World!"
WOMAN:  [laughing] "We're not going to Sex World."
MAN: "Oh, I see, cuz you can't handle any more than this."

At this point, they were cuddling and kissing. I knew I couldn't bolt, however, because they'd think they scared the uptight white girl away. Finally their car arrived, and I exited shortly after they did. But it left me wondering . . . would they go to Sex World?  Before or after dinner? Was he really too much to handle? And, most importantly, how the hell did Ben Stiller and Robert DeNiro get this guy so randy?