Thank You, Powerpuff Girls!

June 9, 2008 at 12:35 pm (On the road again...)

Willie Nelson sings “My heroes have always been cowboys…”

While that’s good for him, I’ve been blessed with a different phenomenon. Over the last couple of weeks, who has been coming to my rescue?

Cute young girls.

The events of a couple weeks ago were well-documented, when a large drunken rowdy got into my personal space and met the wrath of the Damsel of Distress. While many wonderful women have done me favors, looked out for me, taken care of me, I can’t think of a more dramatic “See? I care!” in recent history. While other instances have not been as scary or violent, they were touching.

And they were done by strangers.

On the way to work the other day, I’m having a nice, quiet, thought-filled ride. I daydream, fantasize, conjure up nonsense to write about. We roll up on a high school, and a herd of youngsters are preparing to board. Oh goody. There goes any quality ‘brain time’.

Just previous to the high school, we’d picked up a young man with alcohol and probably mental issues as well. He sat near the front, but his, um, aroma permeated the bus. I try to sit next to a window that cracks, for oxygen as well as olfactory reasons. It paid off today. Some of my other riders were not so lucky, and every time the guy moved a wave of stink went through the bus.

Kids start boarding, and one boisterous young man announced to the everyone in a loud voice, “Someone on this bus smells like ASS!”

Giggle giggle I can’t believe you just said that etc… This is why I dropped out of school. I’m thick-skinned, but having to endure that kind of meanness would have turned me into a Columbine kid. They joke some more, then I hear Mister Boisterous say, “It’s probably the fat guy.”

I feel the hairs on my neck rise. I could turn and give him the stinkeye, but that just escalates things. I’m used to it, been hearing it all my life. It’s like blaming the dog when you fart. BO? Blame the Fat Guy. Fortunately I’m not as fat as I used to be, and America is fatter than ever, so I don’t get it as much. I will ignore it, and hope they find a retard to pick on or something.

Mister Boisterous makes another “funny”. Then I hear this small, girly voice say, “It’s not him.”

My ears perk again. This isn’t how it usually plays.

“I was just sitting behind him, it’s…not…him. He’s got fresh clothes on, and… it’s just not him. It’s probably YOU, asshole! You’re just deflecting!”

I could have kissed her.

They started an intelligent discourse about the definition of what ‘ass’ smells like, and when my stop came up I marched right past Mister Boisterous, giving him a big non-sniff. I glanced to see which girl was my defender, but it could have been any of three or four. Whichever one you were, I thank you as a bunch. I know there’s some class in the ranks of tomorrow’s adults.

The weekend came, and I had sorta-plans. I had errands to run after the parade on Saturday, and a friend mentioned wanting to go to the Fun Center, as she’d never been in her fifteen years here. Errands accomplished, I went by her place, but she’d decided against going. It was overcast, and she’s not a downtown person, so I headed for home. When I told my nephew about it, he told me that it sounded like fun, so why don’t we go tomorrow?

Sunday afternoon rolled around, and I prepared to go. As I headed for the door, the phone rang, and it was one of my nephew’s friends. My nephew, sheepishly, asked if we could cruise downtown another time, because his friend wanted to come over and play video games. Of course it was okay. In Nephew’s words, “We’ve got all summer…”

Since I was dressed, ready to go and needed groceries anyway, I walked to the bus. I managed to get my favorite seat on a bus with ample leg room. The weather was perfect, 70s with sun and just a couple clouds. I kicked back and watched the world roll past.

As we pulled up a few blocks east of the downtown bridge, a group got on. I didn’t pay much attention, but heard a giggle. Young girl voices. Could be anything right? I heard this:

“Look! It’s that guy, the one who works at that store.”

Here we go. I braced for some sort of insult.

“Yeah. He always nice to me.”

“Yeah, he cool.”

I’m glad I had sunglasses on. I didn’t puddle up, but I’ll bet my neck was redder than my hair. I watched as they disembarked. They were maybe twelve, a couple of prepubescents who come in for candy once in a while.

Thank you for being nice. It made my day.

At that point, I chose to keep my window seat, view the Rose Festival from afar, go buy my groceries and hibernate the rest of my truncated weekend away. I rode the bus around.

I watched the Celtics almost lose, I think I saw the Cubs win, (fell asleep) and slept good for the first time in days. And now it’s time to fire up the work week again.

Despite my lecherous ramblings, I try to be a gentleman most of the time. I guess it pays off.

I’ve got the cutest people jumping to my defense these days.

1 Comment

  1. gee-no said,

    Hey!..Kids!..Leave those Teachers A-lone…..XD

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