Saturday, July 22, 2006

Our Taxes at Work.

Public transportation has always been overrated. Even though the El Paso bus system has to be in my opinion the worst in the country – it does at times transport an entertaining assortment of characters. And I like how everything on the bus – from the plastic chairs to the aluminum railing is slimy and/or sticky.
As I waited for my route 15 in the dimming twilight of the Central Plaza – the hot winds began to blow and that crazy ass black lady started to get too close. The heat caused the flies to come out at Biblical proportions and I sat there swatting them fussily. With a squeal of gears, the old bus farted black smoke and halted at the station.
Already I took inventory of the people that were waiting – mainly the two hot young Mexican boys that I have noticed before waiting for this line. Especially the younger one with the highlights – always checking me out.
Well, flashed my free and gratis bus pass compliments of MHMR and sat way in the back – with the cool kids. And then wish I hadn’t. The bus idled for twenty more minutes as I cooked on the engine where the seat I was perched sat over. It didn’t help that the air conditioner didn’t work – then again the air never works on these buses.
The two hot Mexican boys sat adjacent to me providing eye candy – the one with highlights kept taking digital pictures of his friend (lovers?) It was too cute. A filthy ass drunk that lumbered back and sat two seats away ruined it – he smelt of piss and sour beer. Then two bloated teenage hoochies in miniskirts sat back with us, also.
We were also joined by three real handsome Mexican cholos that were high on heroin – they sat in the back – all three…silent, legs crossed, eyes drooped, sniffing. One, the thinnest and by far most attractive, pulled a small crossword puzzle book from his back pocket and began to figure out the games. I sat there taking it all in – simmering from the heat of the engine until finally with a grunt and protest of gears, the bus lumbered up Mesa Avenue north to my apartment.
It would have been a quite ride if the drunk didn’t clomp up front and start grating loudly, “Goddamit! Whydoya hafta shtop at ev’ry fuckin’ shtop? Yur fuckin’ shtoppin’ at evr’ry fuckin’ shtop! Ya Goddam muthuh fukkuh!!”
All through this I kept checking out the skinny cholo in the white wife beater who appeared completely oblivious to what was going on and didn’t falter from looking up from his crossword puzzle – not only hot, but intellectual.
The metal dinosaur continued and picked up and dropped off corpulent women and goofy looking homosexuals. I like how in the back this one bloated fairy would dart his eyes around from one guy to the next and look away in nervous shame – especially at this young white guy with travel bags that was either homeless or coming back from a long journey.
Well, the drunk started up again and the driver slammed on the brakes and threatened to call the cops. “I don’t givva fuck!” was the response.
About this time I had reached my stop and debarked. I wonder what would’ve happened if I stayed on? I try to imagine that the whole bus had to team up to subdue the enraged drunk – in a fit of anger the drunk takes the wheel of the bus and drives it over a ravine…passengers screaming, carriage bursting into flames…

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