The Bus Chronicles: Daniel

My weekend was pretty good, starting with a nice surprise party that left my friend H pissing his pants (he was really surprised), and a Church concert thing (urgh) because my Mom is kind of devout, and some Bishop was going to be there too. And then I had to rush, late as I was, to my friend's directing debut in a play. (I was only able to catch the last 15 minutes. The theatre, a school auditorium, is tiny and everyone heard the fucking door open as I tip-toed my way to a backseat.)

As you can probably imagine, I was annoyed, tired and mostly annoyed as I tried to find my way back to the nearest subway station. I hopped on a streetcar and read a book I had brought along and next thing I know this announcement comes on:

PLEASE EXIT THE STREETCAR AT THE NEXT STOP.

THIS STREETCAR WILL BE SHORT TURNING SOON.

And in my mind, I've murdered the driver a few times. Why couldn't he just finish the job and GET ME TO THE STATION?!!? So, I'm left stranded on a street corner, in cold weather a Saturday night with the only other passenger left. So I did, what people normally do in such situations. I started talking to the guy.

Turns out he had just dropped off his Girlfriend at home (awwwww --- tooo bad -___- ) and was on his way home too. Then I learned he was a fouth year student, majoring in Biochemistry and Neurosciences at the University of Toronto. WHAT?!?!

So we had a nice conversation about math, and physics, and how you need to persevere if you want to make it. Also, not to feel bad if you decide this load of math, physics, chemistry and other unpleasant scientific studies just isn't for you. 

Finally, he warned me against the thing that hurts the most during your first year in post-secondary education: if you thought you were smart before, get ready to have your ass served to you on a silver platter by an Asian that can do EVERYTHING better than you.

Great, just great... hahah

P.S. : Though I am portraying a stereotype, I would like to remind you that it is a positive one. Being smart is a good thing. Now, read that again, and try to convince yourself there is such a thing as a "positive stereotype". That's a dangerous way of thinking. That's like saying "positive racism" or "positive rape" (==> Mitt Romney, anyone?) 

The Bus Chronicles: Wise Photographer

He sits in the corner
Closest to the opening
Towards the stars

It's cold: his layers prove it
Jean dress shirt, plaid sweater, tweed jacket

What a hipster
This wise photographer

Red colored pants
Nice blue shoes
Personality of many hues

A camera around his neck
A Dollarama bag filled with wires
That interwove with his deeper desires
Of future glory
And wise story

On a downtown bus
On a cold Sunday night

Bus Ride with Dreadlocks

Dreadlocks on a blond head,

Pearly whites in a dark face,

Intertwined hands and a laugh that goes on for miles and miles...

It's funny. Everytime I see an interracial couple, it makes me smile. It's almost like I feel there isn't enough of them out there. I mean, mixed kids are A-DO-RA-BLE... so keep making those kids people!!

I saw this guy on the bus, one late night. I thought he was super cute, I don't know... People think blond hair in dreadlocks looks dirty, but to me it has this weird appeal...what my English teacher would call the "Australian Savage" look. But I mean the story ends there. Cute guy on the bus, one night, and I'll most likely never see him again. Except the world has this twisted way of mocking me by proving me oh-so-very-wrong.

Weeks later, I see the same guy again, on the bus. With what appears to be his wife/girlfriend. And their kid. This beautiful little baby girl and in my head the wedding bells I had imagined crash and burn. But I start looking at them. Like, really looking. They smile. And hold hands. And this woman's laugh is loud. They're cute, but not in an overbearing way. In the way of people that actually want to spend time together. (Yes, I know, I'm kind of a hopeless romantic at heart).

And then, I have three revelations:

#1 - My boyfriend-ish never holds my hand like that. I mean, we're young and I don't expect any wedding bells, EVER (he's atheist), but I mean I've never received that kind of love from anyone other than my turtle.
And yes, my bf-ish is allowed to be his "no hug, no kisses" kind of guy, but like... I have needs, you know??!??

#2 - When this guy is going to have to find himself a "real" job, those dreads are going to come right off. And wherever I am that day, I will feel all those "Australian Savage" style locks fall to the ground, and I will weep.

#3 - If I see this guy again, I promise I'll tell him to take care of that little girl and love her the way he did that day on the bus. Because going through several dads is no joke. Actually, it's emotionally draining. And even though he doesn't know me and I don't know him and nothing is ever going to happen between us, I just feel like I have to tell him. Because it's those little moments in public transportation that no one else remember that I deem important enough to make happen anyway.