1. Public Transportation is a bitch. I'm really starting to hate it. I may go ahead and purchase a car because I am so sick of the bus. I would prefer not to since I would have to spend money that I prefer to save(Social Security won't be around for ever). Saturday I decided to go to Arundal Mills. Arundal Mills is a medium sized mall which has many outlet stores that I go to get some really good deals. Anyway, when I got on the number 8 bus to Downtown I see a big ass television sitting in the middle of the aisle. Yes, someone decided to bring a 24-26 inch television on the bus. Now I know I'm cheap but dag man, I guess homeboy didn't have any friends to give him a ride home. Was he to cheap to catch a cab. Imagine if he would of dropped that big ass television on someone while trying to exit the bus. Oh the pain, the pain I said.
2. In case you didn't know the number 8 is one of the worse buses to ride in Baltimore. It seems as if the worse of the worse rides that bus. The only good thing about it is that it runs fairly often, although not always on time. On this bus you come across a wide variety of people who live and work in Baltimore. One of the most memorable groups of people who ride this bus are the drug addicts. Sometimes they can take up to a quarter of the seats on the bus. Most of them sit in the very front of the bus or the very back of the bus. Looking at some of them you wonder why they are wasting their time going to a methadone clinic when they are clearly high before they even step foot inside of the clinic. The other addicts are people who are attempting to do the right thing with their lives but do to many years of hardcore drug abuse, the story of their past life will be forever etched onto their face in the form of bad skin, track marks and missing teeth.
3. A second group of riders of the number 8 bus are few scared worried looking white people who either missed the express or who are down on their luck and had to catch the local service of the number 8. Most of the time they sit very close to the front of the bus as if the bus driver is going to save them if something "gets to popping",yea right. Of this group maybe 10 percent get bold or have worked, are friends with black people and therefore are not as fearful as the bulk of white riders on this bus, and decide to sit in the back( not always wiggas).
4. The third group of people who ride this bus are black folks who have issues but their issues have not taken them where group number one's issues have taken them. This group frequently get on the bus smelling like cigarettes, cheap liquor and funk. I talking about somebody stinking so bad that the funk singes off the hairs in your nose. Man, some of these people stink so bad that you got to wrap your winter scarf around your face just so you can breathe. Otherwise, the strong stench coming from your seatmate may cause you to pass out and hit your head on the back of a germ ridden seat in which someone decided to declare their love for "lil Black forever" for all of us bus riders to see(like we care).
5. The final group of people who ride the number 8 bus are people like me. They are hard working people who can not afford a car, decide not to drive, they may not have a license, or are to young to drive. We bathe and we don't have any hardcore substance addictions for all the world to see.
Finally we reach downtown. I'm very happy because now I can get off the bus headed straight to funktown USA. I now transfer to the lightrail. Baltimore's lightrail is a train which runs on ground level. It is very similar to the streetcars in Toronto. The big difference is like Baltimore's subway, it only goes in two directions. I look at the bus schedule praying that I can make the number 17 bus because I only have 12 minutes to get to the stop. If I miss the bus that means I have to wait another hour for the next one and I am not in that type of mood today.
As the light rail pulls up to Patapsico(sp) station I see the bus sitting right there. I make a silent prayer that the bus does not pull off. Now you guys know that there are some smart ass bus drivers that will see someone running a hundred miles an hour and pull off as soon as the person gets in front on the door.
Thank God this driver was not that type of person. He decided to wait for all of the people getting off the light rail. Now this is the longest part of my journey to get to the mall. The bus ride is an entire hour. I try to read but I become a little nauseous because of all the twists and turns that this bus takes. So I decided to listen to the conversations of all of the people sitting near me instead. They were not so interesting so I tune them out and go into my own little world. Just as I am in the middle of a fantasy about a tall, muscular lover rocking my world guess what happens.
Some smelly dude gets on the bus and sits right in front of me. The guy looked Eastern European I so wanted to ask him if it was okay for him to smell like this in his homeland. If not, them why the hell did he think I wanted to smell his funk. When I say he smelled, I mean he sssssmmmeeellleedd. His funk was a combination of smelly underarms, cheese steak with extra onions, and dirty ass. The good thing was I only had to ride with him for the last twenty minutes of the bus ride.
Once I got to the mall I was soooo very very happy. I found two pairs of shoes which I really wanted. The best part was I got the second pair for half off. I love shoes but have definitely slowed down on my spending for them. I tried to promise myself that I would not have more than a bakers dozen at any time. There are to many people in the world without one pair of shoes so why should I own 50 or more pairs of shoes.
I also saw two people that I went to High school with. I was very happy about that because I had not seen either person since high school graduation. I got the phone number and email address of both so I can keep in contact with both of them.
I looked in the other stores but did not find anything that I needed although I saw plenty that I liked. I headed to the food court where I went Popeyes and had some of their deep fried poison. It was pretty good although it had my chest buying as if someone had thrown a stick of dynamite down my throat 30 minutes after eating it. I guess it will be no more of that junk for me for a long time.
I was ready to leave so I went outside to board my bus which takes me back to the lightrial. When I got to the lightrail stop I happened to come upon a mentally disabled man who decided that I should be his date for New Years. I had to tell him that I was not feeling very well because I fell and hit my hand and face(lie). He offered to kiss it, and make it better for me. I said no thanks and got the hell away from him.
Finally, the lightrail comes and I hop on. As I am waiting for the train to pull off a group of four manages to make it on the train before it is able to pull off. The group contained three women(?) and a effeminate man. As the train started to pull off they begin to show their ghetto ways.
One of the girls started to complain about a mutual friend that they had who liked to smoke up all of the weed and cigarettes but never brought any of her own. This chick went on and on about how she likes to get high and how it upsets her that she buys weed and the other young lady(?) never brings anything for them to get high on.
Now the entire time that they sat around singing the praises of weed, there were two white people sitting across from them. I can only imagine what was going threw there minds as they listened to this group of idiots brag/praise their drug habit. The chick went on to tell her friends(?) about her new boyfriend who happened to be a drug dealer who sells WEED and CRACK.
From the lady's(?) story her new boyfriend is following in the steps of his father because he is also a street pharmacist .
Thank God my stop came up next before she went into their sex life(although I think I would have really liked to hear that). I hoped off the train and walked down the street to catch my final bus which I am happy to report was not as bad or eventful as my trip on the same bus earlier that day. I made it home in one piece. I'm tired, good night.