Adventures in Public Transportation
Unarmed
ADVENTURES IN PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: Unarmed
The man with the clipboard is deep in the pitch. His target, another passenger on the Gold Line train, nods and smiles and is prepared to buy whatever he’s selling. The tone of his rapid patter is more like flirting than politics. He’s hawking a petition about minimum wage, among others.
She’s eating it all up with a spoon and would like to have him for dessert.
“OK, I’ll sign,” she, says before he’s even done with the pitch.
“Great,” he says, smiling back at her. There’s a long pause as they regard one another. Finally, she breaks the silence.
“Do you have a pen?”
There a flash of… something in his eyes as he realizes he does not.
“Yo, big man.” He’s addressing me. “You got a pen?”
“No,” I reply.
He repeats the question to everyone in the vicinity. No one wants to offer one.
They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but he has gone to battle completely unarmed. And it is doubly tragic because he doesn’t seem to realize she doesn’t really care about the pen anyway.
She really just wants his sword.
Originally posted February 22, 2016
Background
ADVENTURES IN PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: Background
Overheard on the train (all are strangers):
Guy1: Are they hiring where you work?
Guy2: Yeah, you should apply.
Guy1: Do they do a background check?
Guy2: Yeah.
Guy1: Can’t do it then.
Guy2: They just look for felonies.
Guy1: Can’t do it. They make it so hard. I mean, EVERYBODY’S got a felony.
Guy3: I’ve got a felony.
Guy4: I’ve got a felony!
Guy5: I’ve got a felony.
Guy2: I’ve just got a misdemeanor. They also ask if you use any illegal drugs. I smoke a lot of pot, but I’ve got a prescription; so it’s not illegal.
Originally posted March 9, 2012
(Air Travel Edition): One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
ADVENTURES IN PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION (AIR TRAVEL EDITION): One step forward, two steps back
-by Ken Bolding
The gate attendant announced that the plane we were supposed to be on at 6:15 pm comes from L.A. and then turns around and flies back to L.A., but on the way, it experienced mechanical problems and had to divert back to L.A. They swapped planes and are headed here to Tucson but are now running an hour late.
A woman approached the counter. “An hour late doesn’t work for us.”
“That’s when the plane will get here,” replied the attendant. “We’ll get you on board as fast as we can.”
“Well that’s not acceptable. We have children… We’ve already paid for a babysitter… They’re expecting us!”
“Well, ma’am, there’s really nothing I can do about *that*.”
“Hmmf,” grunted the woman as she turned away.
The man behind her in line steps up. “What? You mean you can’t just snap your fingers and make an aircraft appear?” He said, in a voice loud enough for the woman and everyone else waiting to hear.
“Well, let me see,” said the gate attendant, as she snapped her fingers wildly in the air. “No, I guess not,” said the attendant, smiling.
“Well, at least you tried,” said the man.
AN ADVENTURE IN PRIVATE TRANSPORTATION: Work Wife Mojo Edition
AN ADVENTURE IN PRIVATE TRANSPORTATION: Work Wife Mojo Edition
My office mate (work wife) has what I call “The Armine Mojo.” She tends to accidently drive men to obsessive behavior. For example, two years ago, she went out with a guy exactly twice, and he has texted her almost everyday since. She has never responded.
A guy who works at the administration desk downstairs once saw me photographing her for my cinematography class, and “jokingly” asked her for copies of the photos… continually… for weeks. He even stopped me once when she wasn’t there to see if I would hand them over since she didn’t seem to want to. I refused, of course.
On another occasion, unbeknownst to her, her parents invited a guy to dinner as a fix-up. She had no interest in him. Over the following month or so, he continually asked her out, offered to buy her things, and tried to take her to Paris. Even though she rebuffed him at every turn, if I remember correctly, he proposed marriage. More than once. She turned him down.
Today as she drove to work, a guy in a BMW did a double take while they were stopped at a traffic light. He then proceeded to follow her to work. When he saw that the parking garage is private, he backed his car out, and went on his way. But as she waited to cross the street to our building, he pulled up and rolled down his window.
“Excuse me, miss. Are you Persian?”
“No,” she replied.
“Are you Armenian?”
“What does my nationality have to do with anything? What do you want?”
“You’re just so beautiful. Will you have dinner with me?”
“No, thank you.”
“Drinks then?”
“No thanks. I really have to go now.” The light has changed, so she continues across the street. He calls after her.
“Please! Can I have just 10 second s more of your attention?!”
She continues to walk away. He sits in his car and watches her as she disappears into the building.
When she relayed the story, I proposed a business opportunity. Gladiatorial games. Text guy, Paris guy, picture guy, and BTW guy fight to the death. The winner gets dinner. If he wants a second dinner, he has to fight the next three obsessive suitors. I see it as a win-win. We make money, and she drastically reduces the number of unwanted pursuers.
She says she just wants to meet a guy who is not crazy. Well… good luck with that!
Getting Off Track
ADVENTURES IN PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: Getting Off Track
– by Ken Bolding
On my way to lunch, I saw a car drive over the median to escape an oncoming train. The driver had somehow turned onto the train right of way and was driving north down the tracks about to enter 23rd St Station. I don’t know whether it was seeing the station or the blaring train klaxon that snapped him out of his trance and kickstarted his sense if self-preservation.
Class, if I’d…
ADVENTURES IN PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: Class, if I’d…
– by Ken Bolding
Some (possibly slightly crazy) Guy: (screaming from across the street) You going golfing?
Me: No. Photography.
I arrive at the bus stop, and set down my bags. Guy crosses the street and approaches.
Guy: What is that?
Me: Photography equipment.
Guy: (excited) But what’s that sticking out of your bag?!
Me: (sigh) It’s a collapsible frame for a piece of diffusion.
Guy eyes me suspiciously.
Guy: You from JPL? [NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory]
Me: No.
Guy: C’mon, really?
Me: No.
Guy stares at me for a few seconds, leans in, and then asks in a conspiratorial whisper, “you classified?”
Me: No.
Guy: Seriously, are you classified?
Me: No.
Guy: I don’t know if I believe you… (accusingly) You smell like skunkworks!
He takes a moment and then suspects I might have misinterpreted his accusation as a dig against my personal hygiene, rather than as an accusation that I’m a scientist working on secret government projects.
Guy: I mean, you don’t actually smell at all. You smell like Purell… And you’re not classified? You don’t work for JPL?
Me: No.
Guy: Hmmm. (tentatively) OK… You have a good day.
Me: You too.
AiPT: Googlie Eyes
Adventures in Public Transportation: Googlie Eyes – by Ken Bolding
A couple passes the bus stand outside the Paseo Colorado on an after dinner stroll. She is in a little dress and stilettos. He is in slacks and a bright, blue, slightly clubby button down. Date clothes. This is an early date but maybe not their first. She is slightly tipsy and stumbles a little, clinging to him as they walk.
“I Googled you,” she says in a slightly mischievous tone.
He stops cold. She takes an extra step and turns to face him. “And what did you find?”
She slides her hands up his chest and caresses the back of his neck. “A church thing,” she says staring up into his eyes, smiling. He breathes again.
“See, I told you,” he says as they resume their walk, their arms entwined.
Their hands slide down of their own accord, and their fingers interlock. They walk another 10 yards and stop again. They face each other and slip into a long passionate kiss right there on the sidewalk. There’s no way to tell who has initiated it. But neither seem to want to be the first to break away. My bus comes, and I clear out. For all I know, they’re still there. I like to think so.
Waiting for the Bus at the End of the World
ADVENTURES IN PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: Waiting for the Bus at the End of the World
– by Ken Bolding
Dec 18, 2012 1:45 AM
I got to Lake Ave Station just before midnight. Four minutes after the second to last bus went up the hill and a half hour before the last shuttle would arrive. A worried looking woman asked me if I knew when the bus was due. I told her, and then she asked if I knew any rich people? She explained that she had panhandled in Pasadena before and made a dollar or two, but sometimes rich people will give you a $20; so she wanted to know if I knew any. I told her I didn’t
A group of 4 or 5 drunk kids approach. They are scream-singing something at the tops of their lungs. As they get close I can tell what it is. The one that seems like the leader stops in front of me and scream-sings at me, “It’s the end of the world as we know it! It’s the end of the world as we know it! It’s the end of the world as we know it!”
I sing back, “And I feel fiiiiiiinnne!” Drunk-leader high-fives me and then hugs me before they move on.
“Drunk assholes” mutters Tall-Grumpy-Guy.
Worried-Panhandler looks at me astonished. “You’re fine that the world is ending?”
“That’s how the song goes,” I reply.
“Oh, it’s a song? But they say the world is going to end on the 21st. And you’re OK with that?”
“Nothing’s gonna happen on the 21st,” I say. And then spend the next several minutes talking to her about the Mayan calendar and reassuring her that the world will still exist after next week.
A perky looking woman who I had seen go up the hill a few minutes before, is walking back down the hill with a grocery bag. As she passes Tall-Grumpy-Guy, she asks “want some black beans?”
“What,” he spits out, annoyed.
She stops. “Would you like a can of black beans,” she asks again cheerily.
He pauses, locks eyes with her, and then enunciates clearly so there can be no misunderstanding, his words like icicles, “Canned food causes cancer!”
She shrugs and continues walking. A few minutes later, the drunk kids make their way back down the hill. One of them almost bumps Tall-Grumpy-Guy, and he shouts at them. They turn on him, two of them ready to throw punches. Two others subdue them. Their singing leader talks it out with Grumpy, smiles and apologizes for almost stepping on him. They continue on their merry drunk way.
“That’s the problem with being out here so late at night,” mutters Grumpy, “too many knuckle heads. I’m not trying to mess with nobody. I been to prison and it changed me. I’ve been a day trader for 5 years now. I can’t even day trade from prison. I know. I tried. I even get the paper a day late. It just doesn’t work.”
He tells me a little about prison life and how your homies don’t even stick by you. He says if there’s a fight and your homies jump in to help you, it will start a riot; so nobody does. “You’re on your own,” he says.
“Wow,” I reply.
We see the bus approaching and he gives Worried-Panhandler a dollar, and we all board the bus. Grumpy and Worried get out at the same stop. They both say goodnight and wish me well. I do the same.
Now all I can think is that if some cataclysm does befall the world in a few days, Worried will be both annoyed at me and a bit pleased that her concerns were justified. Grumpy, I’m sure, will just mutter, “fucking knuckle heads” as he makes one last trade before the lights go out for good.
Fallen
ADVENTURES IN PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: Fallen
-by Ken Bolding
8:45am 12/13
A woman on the Gold Line stared out the window of the train. This is odd because she is normally tapping away on her smartphone with a slight, almost secret smile. Her usual incandescent glow was gone. As she turned, and I saw her I eyes, I knew with certainty that she had fallen out of love. Or more likely had been pushed. Her heart had not survived the impact.
Mariachi Plaza
ADVENTURES IN PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: Mariachi Plaza
-by Ken Bolding
Got off the train at Mariachi Plaza. Found it full of mariachis. Who knew?
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