Just Another Tuesday in Ballard

*Disclaimer: No MeanKatie's were hurt in the making of this story:

Tuesday night I went to the M’s game with K and her two friends M and R. Because neither of them know I’m 31, they were cracking jokes all night and quoting movie lines like… “You can’t just start a slow clap whenever, man” and “dude, I bet those people that rake the infield during the game are old like the 30 year olds you work with”… stuff like that. But, I was taking it in stride 1) cause I’m damn hot, and 2) I’m damn hot.

Towards the end of the game K looks over and says, "so did you drive downtown?" “No." I say.

Pause.

“I totally forgot to fill my tank up with gas this morning and I only have like 92 miles left. Tee hee.”

I say nothing. I already knew I was taking the bus home, no biggie, but this is just irritating.

“So, do you need a ride to…”

“It's OK, I can take the bus.”

“No, it’s dangerous and you’re by yourself.”

“Yes, and you’re forgetting we live in Seattle, I’m going to Ballard, and I went to Costa Rica for 2 months by myself and came back without a scratch. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Will you call me the minute you get home?”

We walk back to her car, I get my stuff, strap on my headphones and make my way through the Mariners crowd rocking out and pretty much strutting my stuff so people would leave me alone. I get to the corner by Pyramid and have to wait to cross, and as I’m standing there I notice a group of 4 or 5 guys off to my left who are noticeably drunk. Not overly drunk, but louder than usual with less control over their limbs. After a minute or so, there is an arm around my shoulders and a camera in my face.

“Hey babe, its picture time!” The sweet smell of alcohol breath hits my nostrils as the man with the camera is trying to figure out which way to point it. Just before he hits the button to take the picture, alcohol man says, “We should really kiss for this…”

“Nice try bud. Maybe next time you should just go in for it at the beginning.” I say and walk across the street on my rockin' way. N.I.N. is ringing in my ears and I’m making some pretty good time. I need to get out of the downtown area so I can meet up with a bus to get to Ballard. There are packs of people everywhere walking up 1st ave, and I’m keeping pace with an Asian couple the whole way. We’re playing leap frog as we make our way through the crowd. That just happens to be something that annoys me - much like drivers who know you are going to pass them so they speed up – some people are just like that; no matter what you're not going to win this non-race that we're in.

I come to a crosswalk where the light is red, but since no traffic is coming I start to jaywalk just as a Prius full of men decides they are going to turn right. I step back up onto the curb just in time to get “Hey Mama, I’ll run into you ANYTIME…" Sigh. The things guys say sometimes...

Anyway. I make it to a bus stop just as the 18 is coming from behind. As I’m standing in line, I look behind me to notice the rockabilly kid who rides my bus in the morning walking up to the same bus stop. Huh. That’s weird. We’re both at the same stop at the same time… for the second time today. I enter the bus which is completely filled with people all coming from the game. Apparently, every family in Ballard took their kids to the game on the bus. “Excuse me, can you guys move back?” Blank stares return. Sigh, OK then. Pushing my way to the back of the bus, I find air at the far back and brace myself for the long ride. Still rocking out and checking out Billy aka Rockabilly - He’ll be my eye candy for the ride home, no problem.

As I’m standing there trying not to get irritated by people who are apparently clueless to the rules of riding the bus or who are unable to move for fear of getting separated from their family, I look down to my left and notice a man sitting alone. Next to an empty seat. Jerkoff. That could have been my seat. Just then, the bus screeches to a halt and I almost go flying through the aisle. Single seater gets up and off the bus, and I make a beeline for his seat. As I’m bee-lining, a guy (who already had a seat) tries to move over to the empty seat. I don’t make eye contact or even look at him really, but see him motion with both arms for me to sit there, so I do. Thank god. Someone who… aw man! I didn’t mean you could sit next to me… but fine. So, I move over and he sits next to me.
And then his stench sits down and I realize he’s covered in dirt. Now, this guy looks like he’s in his early to mid 20’s, and out of the corner of my eye I thought he was a construction worker going home from work. No. This is a young, homeless guy. Or what smells like a homeless guy. Great.

I turn my face to the window so I can have a pocket of fresh air to breathe without being completely rude and getting up out of my seat or covering my nose.
Enjoying my ride home on the bus, I’m relaxing, looking around the bus at people, and intermittently checking out Billy. Billy is intermittently checking me out as he’s giving tourists directions on what stop will be closest for them to get to their destination. I’m planning ways to talk to Billy in my head and genuinely enjoying the outcome of every witty word I say that makes Billy laugh.

Then Henry Homeless starts rocking in his seat and either rapping or talking. I can’t be sure because I still have my headphones in. No one is really paying attention, until he starts getting louder. And louder. And the rocking gets more intense. Billy looks up at him out of irritation, then back down. Then again, then down. Then one more time. Triple take. That can’t be good.

As I’m taking this all in Henry says something to me but I pretend I can’t hear him. He says it again, but this time louder and almost directly into my ear so that I could feel the breath move my hair a bit. I glance from the corner of my eye and he’s pointing at his watch. “Do you know what time it is?” He asks. A harmless question.
“11:00” I say, without taking my earbuds out, looking at him, or otherwise engaging. But before I can even think about what I’m going to say next to Billy during my little fantasy, Henry says something again. Aww man! I do not want to deal with this. I’m looking at the people in front of me. They are all looking back at me. Henry speaks again.

“What’s your name?”

I finally turn to look at Henry. He’s very dark brown from spending days in the sun. His closely shaved, slightly balding head is very close to mine. His brown eyes, or what’s left of the color, are as large as half dollars as he’s waiting for me to respond. I look at his dried out mouth hanging slightly slack as he says it again, “What’s your name?”

Various images run simultaneously through my brain at warp speed (pictures of me saying a fake name, which ultimately ends up in some sort of conversation, pictures of me getting up out of my seat saying, sorry this is my stop) and all I say is “No.” I think most of the bus went quiet. My music was in between songs, and I was turning my head to look back out the window when suddenly all hell broke loose.

I’m not sure how to accurately describe what Henry Homeless did next. Henry is flipping out. Think two year old in a 20 something body. Profanities being screamed at urgent speeds echoing off the walls, windows, and floor. Something about “I just came on the bus to get the girl!” I remember locking eyes with a man in his late sixties who had a slight smile on his face mixed with the look of surprise as he was, like the rest of the bus, waiting for the punchline of this sick joke. Completely frozen and tense with fear, I hold his gaze hoping someone will make this all stop.

Henry jumps up out of his seat and flings himself toward the back of the bus, where he is still screaming and flipping out. One of the men who Billy was talking to motions to the back of the bus and quickly two young boys come sit next to me as their father flanks the outside waiting on high alert for Henry’s next move.

For what seems like 15 minutes Henry is yelling. People at the front of the bus are watching what looks to me like a tennis match, from Henry to me, back to Henry. I’m trying to convey through no movement at all that I am no part of this as the eye movements continue. I look to Billy, who is staring at the floor; hands shoved in his pockets. Gee, thanks Billy. Way to bail when I could have really used some interaction from someone I ‘know.’

At the next stop, the back door opens, and I finally turn my head to see the bus driver motioning for Henry. Henry abides without a fight and walks off the bus obediently; still muttering to no one in particular. Just as he reaches the door, the father at the end of my seat, swings out and kicks Henry squarely in the back followed up by yelling after him “get the fuck out of here you freak!” as his relatives are calling after him to get back into the bus and leave it alone.

The driver returns to his seat at the front of the bus, closing the back door and getting the bus going again. The complete silence that follows is interrupted by a single noise - one person slowly clapping. One by one people join in, and I am experiencing something that I have only seen happen in movies; someone has successfully started a slow clap. The ice is broken and the low murmer in only intermittantly interrupted by laughter about how crazy it was. I am still gripping my bag tightly in my arms and fighting back tears. The fear of someone or something striking me in the back of the head has not yet subsided and I really, really need a hug.

As the bus moves on and empties out, stop by stop I am slowly relaxing. Billy has taken a seat directly in front of me, but has made no attempt at turning to talk to me and my fantasy of our flirtations has completely disappeared. He was no longer the strapping powerful man I'd imagined him to be.

A few stops from where I will eventually get off, I am able to take some deep breaths. By the time I get to my stop I have talked myself into being able to walk the four blocks to my apartment, sans headphones, without being totally creeped out.
The walk from the bus to my apartment is well lit and well traveled. Since it is a Tuesday night at 11 there is not much traffic, but there is some. I am still jumping at every noise, but calm myself down by about the halfway mark.

200 feet before I reach the well lit intersection that marks the halfway point, I notice a man rounding the corner. I was not entirely sure that what I was seeing was actually happening. As he jogged into view, I took stock of his 5’9” frame, his brown hair cut closely to detract from the slight balding. His face that at first registered a guilty “uh oh” and grew into “eh, oh well” as he continued to jog toward me. I then took in his chest, speckled with hair, his penis swaying with each step, his nicely shaped hairless thighs, and his white socks. I briefly looked at the ground then back up in case I would need to ID him in a line up later. As he was 50 feet from me, I hear his voice ring out:

“I’m Sorry I’m Naked! It’s My Birthday!” He exclaimed as he ran past me, feet hitting the ground in a dull thud with each step.

I nearly doubled over with laughter and tears as relief swept my body. This surreal experience on a Tuesday night would serve well for story time. I walked quickly home to my apartment to plug in my phone and call Kat for what would normally be a 15 second “hey I’m home safe” call that turned into a 20 minute “holy crap I can’t believe that!” story.