Log #1

Brand New. Eveything is brand spanking new right now. Well not everything. I hyperbolize. New house, new neighbourhood, new church, new school year meaning new (to me) textbooks, and hopefully soon a new job to pay for said textbooks. It's a new beginning that will bring a new ending, which will be followed by a new beginning, which in turn... well you get the idea.

The LRT is down this weekend as a personal "welcome to using public transit". It means that I have to spend an extravagant amount of time on the bus. So here is the first in what I hope to be a series of bus tales.

The Number 8 on a Saturday Morning

by Adrianne Parke

      Nothing out of the ordinary. A girl of 21 boards the bus. I seat myself in front of a couple. The woman then turns to the man and says rather loudly, "What is wrong with these f***ing immigrants? She should be sitting in the disabled seating because that's a f***ing disability." I am rather offended by the ignorance displayed in this outburst and begins to look around to see who the woman could possibly be talking about. Only to realize that this remark was directed at me. Offense immediately disappeared and I settled in as a 5th generation Canadian for what was sure to be an exciting transit trip.

       The man swiftly agrees and just as swiftly changes the topic to the construction happening around the city. Regaling his sweetheart with all of his skills of which he has many. His exact words I believe were, "I can do f***ing anything! Anything at all!" at her incredulity he begins listing all of the 'everything' that he has done which includes and is mostly limited to construction. He can, however, build an entire skyscraper with his bare hands. He should definitely be on television for that. His final argument at being able to do 'anything' was... I will paraphrase so as not to offend. Let's just say he would sexually satisfy her (message me if you want to know his exact words.) She giggles and calls him naughty, like the coquettish vixen that she is. He then (rather loudly) propositions her to partake in coitus on the moving bus. My eyes bulged and my ears burned and all I could think was, "Behind me??? Please no! But it will make a good story... no, not worth it!"

         Luckily, my foreigner-hating friend was far too much a lady to have sexual intercourse on a vehicle of public transit. I thought I had escaped a very awkward, very long bus ride when I began to hear heavy panting and moaning coming from behind me. The other passengers looked just as frightened as I. That was when I realized what was going on. He was proving his point in a rather unconventional way. What could I do? I joined the other passengers in staring studiously ahead and avoiding any emotion to be betrayed on my face until it was my stop and I could flee the stale bus.

         Let's just say, he proved his point. I now believe that this loudmouthed bus man can, in fact, do 'anything'.