Since I now live a block from a bus stop that goes right to my office building, I’ve been taking the bus instead of the train to and from work. It kind of sucks because the buses are rather slow, and the people who ride the 151 are rather boring and unattractive. Sometimes I wonder if I should take the train and walk the four blocks to my apartment. I mean, it’s more effort, but the odds of crazy are much higher. And you know how much I enjoy crazy.
Yesterday I was riding the old 151 and hating it. There was a family of tourists (a couple and their grandson) who jumped on at the bottom part of Magnificent Mile, and for some reason they decided to sit far away from each other and shout about how much they love Chicago. When we rode by the lake, the grandmother shouted about how the lake was really choppy. Her husband responded, “Chops?! Steak chops?! We have a steakhouse in Atlanta called Choppy!!” (CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? SHUCKS.) Meanwhile, the grandson who was sitting right in front of me put a piece of plastic bag on his finger and yelled, “I! HAVE! NINE! FINGERS!”
I was listening to my iPod but lately I haven’t been able to get the volume to go up very high. (Are you reading this, Steve Jobs? Call me about that.) I tried leaning back in my seat, hoping that the few inches farther from the nine-fingered child would allow me to listen to my music in peace. I started to zone out until I heard the woman behind me talking on the phone.
I thought I heard her say, “First, I’m going to take off your shirt.”
OF COURSE I hit pause on my iPod. Of course I did. So would anyone else. When you hear what could possibly be a mid-twenties woman having phone sex on the bus, you try to eavesdrop. But discreetly; I didn’t take out my earbuds just in case.
But come on, what are the odds that I’d hear someone having phone sex on a bus? I mean, that’s a gem. I was immediately thinking about the blog entry I could write, but I knew that I’m not that lucky. I’m on the 151 driving up Lake Shore Drive. No way.
And then she said, “…and then I’ll straddle you…”
So there I was. I had the loud eight-year-old with a bowl cut who was loudly repeating everything his grandfather said. I had an older woman who leaned over me to wave goodbye to her friend standing at the bus stop. And then I had the girl behind me trying to make her boyfriend (I assume) get off over the phone.
I heard snippets of the conversation, something involving her doing things “ever so gently.” I also noticed some weird noise that sounded like rubber moving around, and I was kind of freaking out that the girl could have possibly been masturbating less than a foot behind me. It amazed me that she could get that into it, because, honestly, it was the most boring phone-sex conversation I had ever overheard. She kept going at it though, saying, “Uhhhh huuhhhh…” a lot. I kept looking around to see if anyone else was noticing this, but everyone looked bored.
When we approached my stop, I assume that the guy, well, finished up, because then the girl started talking about how she’d be home in about fifteen minutes, but she had to stop at the grocery store first.
When I got up I tried to play it cool and glanced back at her when I started to step off the bus. I realized that she was holding a balloon flower in front of her face. That explained the noise I heard, so it made me happy that she wasn’t so trashy that she would actually masturbate on the bus. Well, audibly masturbate on the bus.
I’m never going to ride the train again.