Goblins (and Hero Quest strikes again)
2001-11-21 - 11:05 a.m.
Must have asked everyone at my college (who was heading to Maine) for a ride, but 'brother Todd' (who said he'd drive e up to Portland) left before I had gotten in the car. I told my rather truncated story to a rather truncated person, and she said that I should have been pissed. But I wasn't pissed, because this sort of thing is normal for a Jason such as myself, to the point that we can count on not being able to count on things. At least Todd didn't use the lame excuse that he was sick.
I was lost for all of five minutes, once I decided that he must have left already. Took the T into South Station and got a McDonald's #2 and bus ticket from there, playing my life moment by moment (which isn't as exciting as it sounds when you're surrounded by people working customer service jobs). Then there was a pigeon. It was just walking around on top of some sort of booth, to keep from being underfoot in the station, but just walking nonetheless. As I was watching it walk from one side of the booth to the other, contemplating the differences between jumping off of sideA or sideB, I noticed that there was a single other person watching it as well. Sat down next to her and offered her some fries, so long as I was sitting there, and prubly wouldn't finish them all anyway. But the pigeon soon made a decision (both of which seemed suicidal), so all the conversational tidbits that I had built up in my head about the bird's thinking patterns and entertainment value in a boring bus station were thrown out the window (or, more appropriately, my eyes, being the windows of the human body). I sat and ate and left, and we never said so much as a goodbye. Waiting for the bus to Portland, I found an elderly lady to be more talkative. She was one of those grandmother types who never seems to know what's going on, but is entirely *there* in the head, and has a few little stories to tell you. She told me about her kids and her cats, although I had already concluded that she had a couple tiger and a mixed-breed for cats, based on the way she smelled. I also smelled that she had been living alone for some time, partly because she seemed to have no conniptions about talking to a near-skinhead in a trench coat (I bring Jessica where/whenever I travel). Made one more person smile before the bus arrived: she was reading some sort of sociology book and looking very bored by it, and I simply asked her (with a smile) if she wanted to switch books for a bit (I had Russo with me). It seems that smiles produced directly from smiles are of the jolliest sort.
The bus changed it's hum, and we were off. I must have been the only person that security didn't stop, didn't search, didn't really seem to notice. It's almost comforting to know that even in these times of 'strict' security measures, a person can get onto a bus without attracting too much attention. While some f the other people were boarding, I deeply considered yelling 'Hello Tyler!' to no one in particular, just to get a reaction. Would he tell me his real name, or tell me that I must have had the wrong number, or ignore the mis-named greeting altogether? But I decided against this too, because we were on a bus headed for Maine, and it is expected that you know at least one of the thirty other people on the bus, because most everyone knows everyone. A girl sitting across from me was going into 'haysterics' because she had gotten on the wrong bus earlier that day. Se made several points clear: that she was going to college in New York [state], that she had boarded a 'stupid' bus, run by 'stupid' people, and that she was in a dire crisis because she had somehow ended up in Boston, after spending most of the day in bus-station syndrome confusion. I very much wanted to correct her english, and tell her that she was not in any sort of 'crisis' or 'emergency', but this is may have too much to ask of a tear-stained teenager (in a literary sense), and her mother called on her cell phone before I could really get into the issue. There are no real emergencies in life. I don't care if you have an axe-murderer running around your house�you are not in an emergency situation (although quite possibly, a dangerous situation) and even if you're killed, you're still 'just fine', because death has to happen to someone. You can't be the exception to the rule just because you're You, and everyone else has to give You a longer life because you want it. I guess what I'm saying is that emergencies aren't for people. An individual can't have their own little 'code red' procedure, because to the individual, shyt happens. And if shyt doesn't happen, the individual should seriously consider if they're really living their life. *uses the IUT to cry you a river*
I was supposed to meet itch at 10pm in the Food court of the local mall, but it had closed at 9pm. I actually arrived on time, which was odd, because usually it's me that's late and Mitch that makes an effort to be punctual. There were about eight guards waiting for me when I got out of the cab. Mitch's mother had oral reservations about meeting in a bar, but after walking around South Portland, I found that it was the only place open until 1am, when she planned to pick us up. While I was waiting for Mitch to show up, I realized that I've really matured since this time a couple years ago. In the cab, I wore my seat belt. I did not order 'ice on the rocks' just to say that I had ordered and they couldn't kick me out for soliciting (and if I had, I would have thrown in an extra dollar for a 'troublesome' tip). I said 'please' and 'thank you' to just about every person I met, even if I wasn't asking anything of some of them. So we met in a bar. I also realized, through all of this, that we know each other a little too well. I knew what to order (although, since we shared the steak, and I was paying, I had it served nearly uncooked, and he didn't appreciated the pool of blood on his side of it), and he knew that Jessica would be with me (even though I don't wear her as often as I used to). I could have guessed that he'd have some sort of board game when we met, and he (correctly) assumed tat if the guards hadn't been out front, I would have found a way into the mall and we would have met in a dark version of K-B-Toys. We both planned for (and really, expected) the worst, so we compensated by wiring times and places through the 'home base' of Mitch's father. This is all second nature.
So...that's where things are. Where they'll go, nobody knows. Not sure how I'm getting back to school, not sure who I'm going to see while I'm in Maine, and not sure which of those people I'll enjoy seeing. Prubly wont be posting again this week...so you have a good vacation, eh?
