today it was dumping rain in the morning, so i bused to work. the ride in is always nice. the 7:56am from capitol hill to downtown is pretty chill. people reading or speaking quietly to each other are occasionally interrupted by a comment or two from the bus driver. this morning i remembered why i like the bus, the city of seattle, and my life in general.

afternoons are a different beast. settling into a long piece on torture in the new yorker, i was wondering just how much torture i could endure before i cracked. a little? a lot? what variety? but as soon as two separate high-volume conversations erupted, i figured out the answer to my hypothetical torture question: zero.

both conversations were what i would consider oversharing: a dude aggressively whining to a friend about being cuckolded by a woman fresh out of jail (”if she needed dick, she shoulda just called me!”), and a woman complaining in excruciating detail about hiv tests, pap smears and fellas who wanted to be with her while she was away in rehab (”dude said he woulda moved in across the street from the in-patient place just to be near me! but he too crazy, so fuck it.”). occasionally the woman would take time out from her phone call to comment on the cuckold’s problems (”i woulda done it to you too, with an attitude like that.”).

i had my ipod up as loud as i could bear but the painful, painful conversations cut through the painful blaring of rock music in my head until the ride-free zone ended (how can something that’s so good for the environment be so bad for my mental state? i don’t get it.).

mia and i move in two weeks. if the new bus line isn’t better than the current one, i’m going to have to rethink my ride-the-bus-through-the-rainy-season strategy.

yesterday was the company all-(jazz)-hands at the paramount theater. it was fine. we’re making money. whee. at noon, when the meeting was over, i got on the bus to go back to work with our new intern. we sat on the always quiet electric bus, in seats near these two hippie kids who were fully tripping balls. how do i know they were tripping balls? they told me:

ball tripper [looking me in the eye]: MUSHROOMS!
jay p.: uh-huh.
bt: I LOVE WEED!
jp: word up.
bt: ACID! actually, wait. you should eat ’shrooms!
jp: sure b, whatever.
bt: 4:20!
jp: actually, it’s closer to 12:10.
bt [laughing]: haha! i LOVE this guy! can i give you a hug?
jp: fuck no.

at this point, the ball trippers came to their stop and got off the articulating bus, went outside and played with the bus’s soft, articulating middle. not surprisingly, it sounded like a stick being dragged along an impossibly-supple picket fence.

i went to work and decided that they were definitely having a better day than i was.

recently i was thinking of posting an entry about a clump of really magic latina trannies who live across the street from me. i only had one or two small things to write about them but was looking for a larger context to pull it all together. and then this morning happened. a completely different set of broke-ass latina trannies got on my bus (on the first stop of the ride free zone, natch). one of them was lagging behind and standing in the way of bus progress. the gay/yuppie office workers who got on at one of the pay-to-ride stops looked up from their books or phones or ipods to stare and collectively sigh.

after a ridiculously long time, every member of the gaggle of fun made it to the back door of the bus and we proceeded to roll through downtown. it quickly became clear they were on the unhappy end of a night of hard living. they reeked of alcohol, etc. and wouldn’t shut up about someone’s gross feet. whee! because they wouldn’t shut up, i learned that they were on their way to court. the bus stopped a few blocks short of the courthouse and one stood up to exit. the bus moved and she fell smack on her ass and stayed on the floor for the remainder of the ride. at their stop, she got up, leaned over me to the girl to my left and said, “i never wanted to marry you anyway.”

my yuppie seatmate pulled the earbud out of her ear and asked me what her suitor had said. i told her. she replied, “shit. so now what?”

haha. exactly.

the original reason for my post: do all latina trannies throw out one shitty old plaid couch per month or is it just the ones who live across the street from me? i think it’s just them but i just want to confirm.

the 14 summit (my bus to work) is crowded in the morning. it starts off on cap hill with gay/hipster office kids and winds down the hill toward downtown where it makes a left on 3rd ave. office kids get off, crazy gets on. usually. sometimes crazy starts the ride up on the hill, like on thursday.

seats are two-by-two and choosing the right seat partner can make your ride to work either quite pleasant or quite awful. i usually choose a thin someone who has their nose buried in a book, because i’m a thin someone whose nose is soon to be buried in a book. on thursday, i choose what i thought was a wise seat-mate but he was socially freakish and couldn’t figure out how to share. and by that i mean he was well over my side of the dividing line.

i’m not thick of butt, but i was hanging off into the aisle because of him. becoming furious, i started leaning on him. not enough to hurt, just enough to make him feel incredibly uncomfortable and maybe a little violated, which is how i was feeling. the discomfort showed on his face and when he couldn’t take it, he’d yank his elbow away from me in disgust. i’d settle down with the new yorker. a minute later he’d cross the line and i’d start up the lean again. this repeated until he got off the bus.

it felt kind of mean and aggressive (and not surprisingly it reminded me of being in the back seat of the car with my brother on a trip back from queens visiting my grandparents) when i did it, but it also felt so fucking good to feel like i was teaching him a lesson.

i think something here (work, home, something) is making me incredibly direct. and maybe a little mean.

and i promise that all my posts won’t be about the bus.

are you there reader? it’s me jay patrikios. do i say hi or just jump back into it? thinking jump back. i prefer not to stand on ceremony.

i was on the quiet quiet electric bus headed to work the other day when dudes #1 and #2 got loud and let this gem loose:

#1: aw man. the cops got me for jaywalking the other day.
#2: no way man.
#1: yeah. i’m headed down to the masturbate to pay my fine.
#2: who you talking about?
#1: you know, the dude who sets the fines. the masturbate.
#2: you mean the magistrate?
#1: yeah, man. like i said — masturbate.

welcome back.