Sick Transit, Gloria Monday...

“Always have your headphones in before you get to the bus stop. “

It’s my number one rule. And it usually works to keep at bay the consortium of rather odd individuals who for some reason gravitate to talk to me while waiting for and being on the bus.

I find, for the most part, you don’t even need to turn the ipod on. Those little white earbuds of “I’m not listening to you” tend to get the message across, as does making as little eye contact as is humanly possible; or at least they used to.

I don’t know what it is about me, but all my life random strangers have taken it upon themselves to divulge at me their life stories, conspiracy theories and unhinged grocery lists. It’s something I’ve never really understood, and seems to be growing on a daily basis. I have days when I feel like a homing beacon for the less than functional. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I am not entirely functional myself; or that I really do have a sense of kindness and compassion for my fellow man that makes it hard for me to turn away when I sense another person’s need to talk. In any case, it sometimes makes me very tired and only seems to get weirder as time progresses.

I have developed a new skill though. It happened at the bus stop the other day, when apparently the headphones were not a large enough do-not-disturb sign. Person A begins a conversation with me regarding her childhood experiences and how she can’t wear converse sneakers because they make her feet too hot, while Person B exclaims that I look exactly like his niece before she got married and proceeds to tell me about all of his extended family, and did I know how much I looked like his niece, because you know I really, really do and maybe I know her…

At this point, I see a woman and her dog walking down the street and I think “Man, I hope these people really like dogs”, and sure enough both of them lean forward to say hello, and I discover the wonder of the gracious side step. And so the frenzy of conversation begins between Person A and Person B and I turn up my iPod so loud it hurts my teeth. Just another weapon in the arsenal of Buffy the Conversation Slayer…

...and yet as much as I complain, I must admit I sometimes kind of love it. Every once in a while people seem like human fortune cookies and mutter the most randomly poetic things at me. A few days ago, while putting sugar in my coffee at a local coffee shop, a little old man tottered up with an americano. He looked deep into my eyes and said, “What am I looking for?” He stood there for a couple of seconds, scratched his chin, then nodded and said, “My morals probably.” And with that, he wandered off into the day.