Sleeping on the bus: Hoy no.
The rumblings of the bus relax me. The clatter, honks, and squeals become one and I doze off to what is mi urban song.
Algo, something hits me in the face. It actually sticks to the very corner of my mouth, hanging off my lips.
Mis ojos, my eyes are still closed, but I’m awake and can feel something hard in the corner of my mouth. For a split segundo I decide if I should use my right hand or my tongue to explore this foreign object that has interrupted my slumber.
Click. Nic. Click. Pah.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I know that sound. I know that fucking sound. I open mis ojos with my lips firmly pressed together holding the foreign object in its place. I know that fucking sound. I know what is stuck to my mouth and I’m afraid to move it. Hijo de una….
Look at that… Look what is going on here.
Click. Click.
How many fucking fingernails does this woman have? I finally grab the piece of her body from my mouth and hold it in my hand. Like tissue paper, I had to look at it. I even showed it to the woman sitting next to me. I leaned into the aisle and very quietly said:
Um, mam’, your fingernails are going everywhere.
“Why don’t you MAAAAHND yo’ fuckin’ bizness, motha’ fucka’.”
She said this very loudly. On a bus, in DC, in my neighborhood, you don’t want attention. On a good day, no one bothers you and all is bueno. Well, I had a piece of nail in my mouth. It was a dirty piece of nail and while I can appreciate someone maintaining their fingers, I don’t think they should do it in a public place.
Well, you’re right mam’, it’s not really my business. But you see this in my hand? This, mi amiga, is your nail. It hit me in the face. So, it’s my business now.
Ay, Dios. I’ve embarrassed her. The bus driver looked at me from his rear-view-mirror, shook his head and laughed.
“You fuckin’ illegals think you own this fuckin’ place. Why don’t you shut the fuck up?”
I’m in a mood now. It’s suddenly mi time of the month. El Guapo is officially pissed.
Well, yeah, sorry about all of us coming here and taking over. Just tell me this, are you going to take off your shoes and start on your feet next? Because if so, I’m moving to the back of the bus. I smile. It’s a great smile.
Now, I’m an attraction. People are staring and laughing. This is the El Guapo show on the 54 bus. Great…
Then, the woman looked at me, shook her head, and laughed.
“You’re right.” She laughs out loud, puts the clipper in her winter coat pocket, points at me and says, “You’re all right, Jose. I like you. My bad ya’ll.”
For a moment, for un segundito, I thought about telling her not all of us were named Jose. But you know what, who gives a shit?
She gets off at the next stop. I’m just glad she didn’t beat my Guatemalan ass.
Mucho Amor,
El Guapo
13 Comments:
(shudder)
That's really disgusting. Well played.
I dunno... if alguna persona's bodily refuse strikes my person there's hell to pagar.
i can't believe she was brazen enough to stand and argue it out with you.
I'm laughing here. SO gross... but at least it happened to you instead of a lesser storyteller.
“Why don’t you MAAAAHND yo’ fuckin’ bizness, motha’ fucka’.”
I'm still laughing hysterically about that!! Thank you!
I'll beat the pulp out of that beeyotch for messing with my El Guapo.
oh that's nasty.
next time, threaten her with a pot of coffee at her crotch. seems to work for me...
Was she doing her nails? Biting her nails? Or was the nail still attached to her finger as it caressed you? Quiero saber, por favor.
clipping is my supposition, foil
Oh, si. She was clipping away...
Mucho Amor,
El Guapo
I agree with what greymaulkin said.
Clipping her nails on the bus? I'm glad you already said finger, because fingernails are gross enough. What's next flossing? Shaving the legs? Ay, dios mio! El Guapissimo! Pobrecito! Ven a mi piso, y puedas coger mi autobus. There's only a very loud lady on my bus, no personal hygeine. But I got her to shut up (but your bus adventures are more . . . how do I say . . . adventurous).
That reminds me of something that happened when I worked at a Mexican restaurant. I was sitting at the bar after my shift one day, having a tap Coulo Seco (Bud Dry, get it?) with some regulars, when this idiot yells down to Edwin the bartender "Hey Jose, can you put the game back on?"
I couldn't believe it - there were like ten hispanics in the bar, and two white guys - the idiot and me. And I'm an honorary Guatemalan, having smoked weed, snorted coke, and drank Tecate in sufficient quantities with these guys for it to be official. So Edwin walks over to the guy, puts both hands down and leans over right in his face, then looks over at me and asks "Are you Jose?" I shook my head. He asks each of the other guys one-by-one, and whattyaknow, no Joses. Even Jose said no. So now the guy is coming to his senses - the fog is lifting and he realizes he just messed up. So Edwin turns back to the guy and goes "Jose is not here, I think you're probably in the wrong bar. Now get the fuck out. Please." The guy said "Shit, sorry man" and left, with an almost full beer on the bar - it was so beautiful, and very funny. By the way, Edwin's from Progreso - you know him, right?
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