Sunday, November 11, 2012

seriously, tho. what bus is this...

When I was walking to meet Blair at the bus stop Thursday, a man flashed me. I think he was homeless, and he had his pants open. I couldn't even tell what he was trying to do, so I made the mistake of looking down where he was motioning. And there it ALL was, looking surprisingly normal.
I don't know what I was expecting, but I wasn't offended. I wasn't scared. I was simply shocked that his junk looked normal. Because I'm such an expert and all.
I took about 10 steps forward to find Blair waiting for me. I said, "That man just flashed me."
Blair stepped towards him. "Hey! Put that away. Don't make me call the cops."
And that was the end of my thrilling flashing incident.
We hopped on the 12, which was already 11 minutes late. The "#1" was out on the bus' "headband". So it looked the the "#2" bus, which doesn't exist (I was wrong. My public transit-nerd dad emailed me to say there is a 2 Clement.) At each stop, the middle-aged lady-driver would scream to confused bus-boarders, "THIS IS THE TWELVE." She'd go on to explain that the "#1" was out. Relax. This bus is a 12 and it goes where you want it to, albiet it 11 minutes late.
2 blocks of silence. Then, "THIS IS THE TWELVE."
2 blocks of silence. Then, "THIS IS THE TWELVE."
Then the lights went out.

The bus died twice before we hit Market Street. By the time we passed it and made it into SoMa, we were stuck in traffic.
2 blocks of silence. Then, "THIS IS THE TWELVE."
I pulled out my phone and started to play Words With Friends. Much to my surprise, Blair was offended.
The side-story here is that while Blair and I met through being internet nerds, we became friends because we have the exact same bus commute. And once we had to spend time together every day on the 12, we became fast and close friends. Now Blair, her fiance and her wonderful friends are my friends and I STUPIDLY thought Blair and I were at a place in our friendship where we could play phone games when stuck in traffic.
Mais non.
I opened up the microphone app and attempted to record, "THIS IS THE TWELVE."
Blair advised me to wait till 11th Street. "That's where all the people are who have no idea what the hell they're doing. They'll definitely be confused."
As we pulled up to the 11th Street stop, I got my phone ready. The doors opened, I pressed record, and as if on perfect cue, "THIS IS THE TWELVE."
We were an hour into a bus ride that normally takes about 40 minutes. We were punchy. I'd seen a strange man's junk. The bus kept dying. THIS IS THE TWELVE, etc. We chose to find it all especially hilarious. At the next stop, I suggested Blair help our driver out by walking to the front of the bus, telling the driver, "I got this" and playing our recording as she opened the door.
By the time we made it onto Folsom, the home-stretch as it were, I was sore from laughing so hard. Suddenly, the air conditioning thing directly over our heads in the last row starting roaring. It was like the scene in Home Alone when the radiator turns into a monster. A woman sitting near us looked over, roller her eyes, and said, "What's next?!?"
Blair looked at me, looked at the woman, and deadpanned to the whole bus, "I just hope we all make it out of this alive..."


Blair said...

No mention of my soon-to-be-a-dance-floor-staple remix "THIS IS THE TWELVE" with oonsah oonsah back beat?!?! 20 minutes on GarageBand for nothing...

Willo said...

Yes. Dance mix. Please. And soon.

Blair said...

Oh WILLO! It's been broughten (and made).