A Bus Story

The improvement in the weather has brought out the more eccentric bus riders. This morning it was a group of Meth addicts, including the woman who was involved in the mysterious car accident I wrote about several months ago.

She had two companions today. Man A was thin with long, scraggly hair and a matching beard. Man B was enormous. Everything about him screamed uncomfortably large. Heavy construction boots, long-sleeved t-shirt, overalls with a black leather belt and three handkerchiefs around his neck, knotted farmer style.

The woman and Man A sit down across from me. Man B sits down one seat over from me. They start talking. I have a book out (Lost in Translation by Nicole Mones) and am trying to read.

Man B complains about warm it is on the air-conditioned bus. He is sweating profusely and pulls another handkerchief (how many can one person carry?) out of a pocket and wipes his face. The voices of the trio become lower and start to convey a sense of urgency.

I try to keep my eyes and mind on the text.

Man A and Woman: "Do you have any?"

Man B: "Not on me."

Woman: "How much? How much?"

Man B: "I don't have any right now. I only come downtown on Mondays and Thursdays."

Man A: "If we pay in cash, can we get some earlier?"

Woman: (pulls an empty prescription bottle out of her purse) "Yeah, can we get it earlier?"

Man B: "Maybe a day. I don't have any money right now for it." (Wipes his face again)

Man A: "Because we can pay in cash."

Man B: (breathes heavily, sighs, re-ties one of the three kerchiefs around his neck) "I'm broke right now anyway. I'll be down $60.00 next Monday and another $100.00 on Thursday. I'm in debt."

Man A: "We can pay in cash. We can pay you back."

Conversation drifts back to how hot it is on the air-conditioned bus.

Far be it for me to jump to conclusions, but if the frantic manner one of my fellow riders displayed in getting off the bus is any indication, this merry little group was not discussing the purchase of black market pineapples.

It is a pity she did not stay on long enough to hear the punchline to the whole conversation. The three were returning from an early Narcotics Anonymous Meeting.

There are so many different levels of reaction to overhearing this conversation. Horror at the idea that I am witnessing an attempted drug deal. Amusement at the idea of a drug dealer working on a set schedule (Mondays and Thursdays only). Pity that they are so caught up in an addiction that they have lost all sense of discretion.