TGIF
Stumble out of bed. French Shower. Throw on a fly ass outfit suitable for Milan and it’s time to catch the BUS. I arrive at the bus portico engaged in an internal debate on the merits of skipping work. Do I go, Do I skip, Do I go, Do I skip…I’ll just skip across the street and have the best of both worlds. Skipping was a bad idea as I find myself ralphing behind the bus shelter. Surprisingly, not one pedestrian managed to take offense and I suspect that it’s because they’ve all walked a day in my topsiders. Things are starting to look up. The spinning stops, I grab a paper and sit patiently for the bus. I will make it to work today! 7:31 and the bus arrives and it’s the usual cast of characters. The fly hoodrat busdriver with the 1997 haircut; Miguel, Sanchez, Jose and Billy en route to some obligatory construction site. Maria and Maria are on their way to take care of bratty white babies in the upper northwest and they always have a smile on their face. Hell, I would too if i got bomb ass fajitas every night. Right behind the Marias is the hot mulatto chick that I’ve been dreaming about since August. Her age ranges anywhere from the late twenties to the mid thirties, regardless I’d hit it like Jason Giambi playing T-ball. Out of the park. One day I’ll get the digits but until then I’ll leave her wondering about the chocolate truffle draped in pink cable knit. There are a few private school kids and it’s quite a dichotomy due to the fact that there is Chelsea Clinton’s Alma Mater right up the street from a school that pumps out conservatives. Despite this everyone manages to co-exist on the bus and we continue to barrel up Wisconsin Ave picking up the occasional crackhead, cop, or hipster that’s doing their part to lower their carbon footprint. I think to myself, TGIF. Then I realize that I will not be going home to watch Family Matters, Boy Meets World, Perfect Strangers or any of the other bastions of my youth but my new friends Jack D, Jimmy B, and the Russian should make things all better. Arrive to work, no bagels F! are my eyes red, Yes? F! but finally the bagels make their way to the kitchen and things start to look up.
What led up to this? If only I could remember. Something about an open bar, dancing with randos and a pack of smokes.
