Oh Joy!
2003-02-20 || Bonnie Tyler, Steven Tyler, and Zakk Wylde walk into a concentration camp...
Soundtrack � Herbie Hancock � Soundtrack to Blow Up

In the car last night while driving home I wondered to myself why drunk drivers never crash into each other. You never see a news report that says �Both drivers were way past the legal blood alcohol level, both had been arrested numerous times before, and both are now dead, thank the Lord in Heaven�. Instead they always hit people who least deserve it like children, etc. There must be some agreement between the person who controls fate and drunk drivers. Something like �don�t kill 2 of us at once, ever, in the meantime we will have sex with all of the ugly people in the world�.

So I had to pick Dan up at the bus station last night. What a fucking melting pot of social misfits a bus station is though. So I leave here to park my car up the street�mind you there are snow piles that are taller than Magic Johnson on stilts everywhere in Boston right now. Traffic is awful because of this, people are being careful, which is a good thing, but with that always comes people being stupid too. So I go down to the square up the street and try to park in this small parking lot that holds about 100 cars maybe. It�s never full after 6 o�clock�unless of course BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN IS PLAYING A BENEFIT CONCERT AT THE 500 SEAT THEATRE ACROSS THE STREET. Last night of course, BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN WAS OF COURSE PLAYING A BENEFIT CONCERT ACROSS THE STREET. I found a �parking space�, and drove my car into a giant snow bank, and made my way to the subway.

Upon entering the bus station I remembered what I missed most about bus stations. That lovely smell of dank, 2 week old piss and homeless people; feeling like a minority. Anyone who is white and has been in a bus station knows this feeling. White people don�t take the bus. That whole Rosa Parks thing always perplexed me as there are never white people on the bus anymore, and plus when is the last time the back of a bus wasn�t filled with young rambunctious black men? That�s the best place to sit in my opinion. So that wasn�t really a victory for black people more than it was just a lateral thing.

So I am walking around the platform, and I light my cigarette in front of the �no smoking� sign and try to figure out how this bus station works. The last time I was in this place I was going to New York City, which took about 4 hours. I imagined Dan on a bus for 12 hours in one direction and almost vomited thinking of it. �Wow, he must really like this girl� is what I thought. As the only other reason one would take a 12 hour bus ride is if they were in a Fellini movie.

I find Dan�s bus on the arrivals screen, and it says it is on time at 8:30. I wait around for a few minutes while this man and two children wait for �Christine� to get off of the bus that has just arrived. �Christine� finally gets off the bus, and frankly, I can�t say I blame them for being excited, she was pretty. A cousin? A big sister? A girl who just got out of jail that he met online and is going to make love to?

After all of the excitement with Christine�s arrival I realized it was after 8:30 now, the planned arrival time of his bus. I went to look on the screen�the bus was not on there anymore! Fuckers. After a couple of confusing conversations with the Greyhound staff (which is comprised of people who look like they are being fed methadone for 12 hours straight) the bus pulled in.

We went to grab a burger in the bus station, and while waiting in line I nudged dan to check out this woman behind me. I presume he was looking for the nearest 14 year old girl, as that is normally when I give him a secret nudge and a �check that out� whisper. It wasn�t a 14 year old though, it was a woman with hair so fucking high up in the air that I know it had to be fake. It was�surreal�This isn�t an exaggeration of what it looked like. Sort of like a reject from that bar in Star Wars or something.

Now this will go down in the books of my spotted history with bus stations alongside: having sex with a one legged prostitute in the handicapped stall of the Chicago bus station, shooting smack in the middle of the Wichita Kansas bus station, and vomiting all over a policeman in Los Angeles when I was a male prostitute there in the 80�s. Ooh boy what fun has been had. I could retire now.



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