I’ve been using public transportation here in San Diego because gas is $3.50/gallon. Fuck that. I got a two week transportation pass that gives me unlimited rides on the trolley and buses. The trolley goes just about everywhere I’ve wanted to, so it’s been a worthwhile investment.

Unfortunately, with public transportation comes the public. The trolley is almost always crowded and seats are limited. Whenever I get a seat all to myself, some freak inevitably sits next to me and starts to tell me their life’s story, their latest problem, or how the voices in their head are telling them to do things they’d wish they wouldn’t have to.

I don’t know what it is, but apparently I give off this vibe that I care about people when, in reality, I don’t give a damn. At least not while I’m riding the trolley to the Apple Store or the movie theater. That doesn’t stop the finest that San Diego has to offer from sitting next to me, though.

Yesterday, a rather large Puerto Rican man sat next to me. He wore a wife beater shirt, shorts, and smelled strongly of alcohol. I wasn’t able to get my noise-canceling headphones out of my backpack quick enough, so he started chatting with me. First, Rico started with the US relations with Iran and from there he made the leap to solar power. I don’t even remember how he made the transition. At one point he asked me what I did for a living and so I told him.

“I operate nuclear reactors for the Navy. I’m around them all the time and they leak radiation into my skin and now I glow in the dark. I should probably warn you that you’re getting radiation from me just by sitting so close and you’ll probably get cancer and die soon.”

He got off at the very next stop with a moritified and crazy look in his eyes.

Today was more reminiscent of South Carolina. A crazy woman who appeared to be in her early to mid thirties was riding the trolley with an older man. The woman had on a very stained shirt, filthy jeans, and no shoes whatsoever. Her skin was covered in oil and dirt.

The man she rode with looked to be in his sixties. He wore a white shirt that was stained with the same enigmatic mysteries as his snot-colored beard. A brand new starter for the woman’s car lay next to his feet.

“That’s the las’ tahm I let a ma’an drahv muh car, I suh-wear ta gawd!” the woman exclaimed. The man chuckled loudly, spoke some mysterious language that I could not decipher, and nodded. He quickly scooped up the starter and the two set out to fix their car.

I can’t wait to see what comes along next.

This entry was posted on Friday, May 26th, 2006 at 9:09 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.