Rode the bus downtown to cash my disbursement check. I had a half hour layover at the GTC so I waited for my bus ride home in the lobby and pulled out a book. A man approached me and introduced himself. His name is John. John is a few fries short of a happy meal, so-to-speak. John is a red haired, oafish looking guy dressed in a 49ers football jersey. I find him harmless as he drags me into idle chit-chat.
"What are you reading?" he enquires.
"Oh, just something for class," attempting to keep conversation short.
"I love books! The library is my second home." John says with delight.
John then enthusiastically hands me a piece of paper with his name and phone number on it. It could easily be mistaken for the penmanship of a 4th grader. He then asks me for my phone number, but I tell him I don't own a phone. Being persistent, he asks me for my email address. For a moment I contemplate giving him a friends address, just to be a dick, but for some reason I give him my real address. He then asks for my home address. Who is this fucking guy? I politely decline. I notice a couple of girls across the room, giggling to each other in the wake of my uncomfortable, potentially damning situation. I mouth "wow" in their direction. Could I be anymore naive?
My bus arrives in the nick of time and I scurry inside amongst other shady characters. I start laughing out loud, to the uncomforting looks of my fellow passengers. I slept 4 hours last night, but they don't know that. I'm surrounded by your archetypal psychos and other various miscreants. The more familiar ones are like family you stopped talking to or no longer get along with. And there's the haggard looking bus driver, driving forward into the endless circle of her day. The old #13 route in a perpetual loop. I'm another anonymous passenger. A nightstick dangles from a bar near her seat, perhaps to correct unruly passengers. My face looks punched out, black circles forming under my eyes from lack of sleep. My skin green, my eyes red, my aura black. I grind my teeth in between bouts of uncontrollable laughter. The others gauge my behavior and appearance with nervous contempt. How did I become the archetypal psycho? How did I become the creep to avoid? How could this be?
The laughing and smiling hasn't subsided any today. I don't know why I laugh. It doesn't matter, really. I walk by thousands of people each day. Some smile. Some look away. Some don't notice. My individual interactions with these people subside each day, and are limited to a customer-employee stature. So many people, so many possibilities, such little results. Potential opportunities to connect smothered in the ebb and flow of universal woe.
And then a couple hours later I casually check my inbox. Lo and behold, I find this email:
hi channing we met today at the gtc here in the fargo moorhead area and i hope you do call i would love for us to go for coffe or for a movie or something that intrest you .also chaniing we can be great friends or if you wish to go out on a date and possably become lovers or boyfriends great,if you are gay =homesexual or byasexual or if you like guys and are not out thats cool. if you just want to be friends great .my address is john paul _______ XXX Xth ave north apartment # XXX fargo north dakota 58XXX, also if youloose my phone number it is agaian 1-701-478-XXXX, also please give me a call asap,or email first asap eather way i hope to hear from you.
yours truely john paul _________.