The commute.

So I don't drive. High school was a drag and I never got around to getting my license. Now that I'm in community college, I take this public transport they have in my county. Normally that would be okay. Just a quiet ride morning and afternoon, heading back and forth. Nothing too bad.

At least I hoped.




So in the mornings, it's usually something simple. The drivers are invariably senior citizens, but they range from the psychotic to the kindly to the downright fascinating. I think I'll focus on them for now. My first day, I was faced with none other than an honest-to-goodness Tea Partier. A fan of Ann Coulter, a devout (and outright angry,) Christian, and a woman who took great pleasure in being condescending due to the, ahem, "wisdom" her age had "granted" to her.

 An accurate representation of our interaction.

So we talked. Honestly, it was fun. I maintained a respectful tone throughout, and yet... halfway through the ride, two seats behind me, a surly looking woman sat fuming as the driver and I quietly conversed. When she exited the bus, she whirled around and stared at me, eyes full of impotent frustration as she angrily recommend that I just "go to church more."

Kind of a sour note on my morning, but that's just how it was.

I haven't seen that driver since, but I do see a lot of a kindly old man who, for anonymity's sake, we're going to call Pelswick. Now, Pelswick has a quiet voice, and usually nothing interesting to say, but he makes for a quiet ride, when he doesn't have to pick anyone else up.

Both his face and mine when he does.

Let it be known that I have nothing against the mentally handicapped. But I do have something against obnoxious assholes, regardless of how their mind functions. I sit right behind the driver for a reason. I should not have to hear some halfbrained twenty-something broad screeching and howling her favorite pop single. Ever. Not even on YouTube. It's a sleight against hearing as an independent sensory perception to have to put up with that.

But this morning was the best morning. A guy who spent forty-seven years in Boston. He's gotten around and actually knows a little about how the world works. We talked politics, talked shop about what's happening in the county, and had a laugh about the state of things.

 I can only hope for two things. One, I can have that driver again, or two, I can start being okay with the idea of getting high before school, so that the commute will be more interesting.

And then Bill was a wizard.