Normally I would never in my life write about this stuff because it's not anything that particularly stands out in my mind, but today while idly chatting about them people looked at me and told me I must share, because it is in no way shape or form normal.
Apparently, the things that occur around me regularly are actually oddities.
So early in the day I'm on my way to school, but this little twisty road that I use to get to and from school, called Juanita Drive, is backed up. This Juanita drive, by the way, is in Suburbia. In fact, it overlooks Lake Washington, and the houses are atrociously expensive and uppity-yuppity, etc. So, when the bus finally starts moving we go by the obstruction on the way down the hill. I must admit, I really didn't think much about the 7 cows that had been ushered into some poor guys driveway. Now that I look back, I'm somewhat curious as to how they got the cows out of there. And, now that I think of it, how did they get way the hell up there on the hill in the first place? Juanita drive isn't exactly a readily accessible cow trail...
It was hot as hell that day too, and as I walked down the street I thought to myself "If I start shooting people until it cools off, either I will get rid of all these idiotic gangster wannabe teenagers around here, or it will suddenly and mysteriously cool rapidly, proving that there is indeed a God, whose ass I have to kick when I get the next viable opportunity."
This has nothing to do with anything, but that's besides the point. So, I wander into this corner market thingy, and peer about at the drinks, because as I mentioned it's so hot that I'm ALMOST thinking straight, as mentioned up above.
So I step outside and as I'm meandering towards my bus stop I look to my right and see a well endowed young woman walk out of a Pizza place, and this didn't really accomplish much except for getting me to almost walk into a cement pole.
Yes, that's the odd part of Wednesday.
Oh, did I mention she was completely topless in the midst of tons of people, in Kirkland, which is a posh place where that sort of thing just DOES-NOT-FLY? Well, she was. Completely topless, that is.
I'm riding the 255 into Kirkland Thursday, where I hop off, and go and catch the 234 that goes up aforementioned Juanita Drive, and eventually to my house, right? Right. So, there I am, bus and all.
((And on a totally unrelated note, as I was writing this Emily made me cry. You know, that girl I'm engaged to... Where she lives, they can't see stars! That's the saddest thing I've heard in the longest time. Southern Michigan has gone on my shit-list. Wow.....that's so sad. I always thought that no matter where I went I'd be able to see my stars.....))
Now, before Kirkland there's a long stretch of road that both the 255 and 234 travel down. Normally I just wait till Kirkland to switch, but today for no particular reason I got off on that stretch of road, and then got on the 234, which was maybe a block behind. Right before they hit the Kirkland Transit Center, they split, one coming down one road, the other coming down it's own, and they meet up at the transit center. I've never caught the 234 on the road I did, but this day I just did.
So we pull into Kirkland, and the 255 isn't there yet, which is odd, because it usually beats the 234. So, naturally, I look back to see where it is, and I see it coming down towards the transit center. About this time, the driver of the 540 bus has what I later find out to be a seizure. He clips the 255, then veers off into a parking lot as he falls on the gas, and he smashes through (yes, through) 2 other cars, before hitting a 3rd (all the cars were parked, so nobody in them thankfully) car head on, and pushing it ten feet, and then up a near vertical embankment.
First word out of my mouth "Intriguing".
So then I promptly hop out of the bus, and run over there. Luckily, the 540 is one of the new busses, and everybody is doing relatively fine. The driver is still seizuring, so I take hold of his hand and tell him that everything is going to be fine, whereupon he promptly stops seizuring, and stares at me for long moments before asking if I'm an angel. My response, of course, is simply "It's all relative".
Seeing as the bus station is about, oh, a block from the police station, it was a relatively short time before they got there. Maybe thirty seconds. During that time I just held the drivers hand, and he stared at me. A man in his early fifties, by my guess, with weathered arms, the skin hanging shakily from his arms like it does when you get older. He had gnarled knuckles, and Caribbean blue eyes sunken into his wrinkled and worn face. He had a wedding band on, and I couldn't help but wonder if his wife was working too, or if she was at home playing in her garden, like I imagine my grandmother did back when she was 50.
The police asked me to step aside, and I did, and they got the man out on a stretcher. By that time everybody else had exited by the back door, seeing as I was blocking the front, and were being checked by the paramedics. After I got out of the bus, I just went back to the 234, which should have left, but didn't, and went home. People tried to talk to me about it, but I just didn't feel like telling them much, so I told them briefly that he had a seizure, and that everybody was ok, and then put my headphones on.
When I got home, I didn't even think to tell anybody about it, so they'll likely end up reading it here.
On the way up Capitol Hill, I see a dog skateboarding down it.
I have to wonder, idly, where the owner is.
As I sit down on the 234 for the bus ride to Kirkland, before I catch the 255 to Seattle. So, I'm sitting on the 234 and there's a large lady that sits down next to me. Always a friendly lady, willing to strike up conversation, and she gave me a smile and sat down with her yellow pad and paper. So I ask her what she's writing, because she always has that yellow pad and paper. Without much more than a blink of the eyes, she hands it over and says "read it", and so I did.
I feel incredibly proud of this woman, for no particular reason. I mean, I have a reason, but I shouldn't feel the pride that I do for her actions. And it's not pride over her writing, per say, though I'm sure that her skills at writing pornographic material are above average, but that's besides the point. I just don't think that people are ever honest enough.
It's funny how offended people will get over things like that, when they've thought the same things. But, wait, expression of feelings is evil. *smacks forehead* How silly of me to forget. It's funny how afraid of feelings people are.
No, it's not.