Our guest blogger arrives today all the way from acoss the pond, over a continent, and then across another pond. Mo "Mad Dog" Stoneskin thank-you very much for pitch hitting for Pseudo Land today. If any of you don't read Mo, you really should. Wonderful posts featuring characters from pubs and trains are just some of the fun you will find at Mo's blog. I think I'll send him a Hawaiian shirt as a thank-you present...
He marched up the bus towards me. I hate that march, the one that inevitably results in them infringing on your space. The glare, the determined expression, the realisation that you don't stand a chance. His goofy teeth, splayed like a cog, and Hawaiian shirt – never trust anyone in a Hawaiian shirt (did Pseudo resist editing this out?) –filled me with dread.
Women are not a problem. They are perfectly able to think “oh, there are more free seats behind me, I'll turn back." Men are too stubborn. The bastards. They will storm past a million free seats and get to the point when they think “all the free seats are behind me, but it would be embarrassing to turn back, so I'll sit next to that chump instead."
Phew, I thought, the old man sat in a seat in front of me, across the aisle to my left. In one hand he was clutching a handful of coins, which he repeatedly counted, his other hand held a bus ticket. It hurts to imagine the pain of sitting next to a coin-counter.
The neighbouring seat (across the aisle) was free. Over he leant, looking for coins I think, his beady eyes ever alert. Tip of the day, never try and pick coins up when your hand is full of coins. Clink, clatter, fumble, clatter, clink. He fumbled, he rummaged, he scrambled. The passenger in front kept looking back, disturbed. The white-earphoned (ipod, I assume) bloke to my left was watching in awe. This was one determined old man, I'll tell you that. But a dissatisfied one too, his face told the tale of more coins dropped than found.
I didn't want to laugh, his life was probably the perpetual hell of picking coins up with a coin-filled hand. Maybe he was Sisyphus himself. When he got up to leave I saw he had a huge stretch of stitching across his bum, white thread on blue trousers. Bad choice of thread my coin-counting coin-clenching friend. The irony, and I kid you not, was this. At the exact stop he got off, a lady got on and sat in the seat he had been rummaging under. As she sat there, change spilled out her pockets all over the floor.
34 comments:
Oh, the unfairness of it all!!!! Poor Mr Syphillus...
Wait...spelling? Ah, forget it....
Pleasure to be here, especially with Braja's 'spelling errors'. One day she and I will get a bus together and be the terror of the high streets.
Oh I've been on that bus... :-)
Always a day late and a dollar short, eh?
But what booty must have awaited the bus cleaners at the end of the day.
Wait! Do they actually CLEAN buses??
Maybe the white thread was a fashion statement...soon you will see everyone sporting pants like that.
Maybe the white thread was a fashion statement...soon you will see everyone sporting pants like that.
The unusual people you run into Mo! Love it but also felt a bit sad for the old man with his stitched trousers.
So THAT'S why I have a car! At least I get to keep my change if I drop it.
I must admit I have an embarrassingly large collection of Hawaiian shirts in my closet.
Regardless, I enjoyed the piece. Well done, sir.
That is so funny. My Dad wears those types of shirts.
Not trusting anyone in a Hawaiian shirt!!?? I live in SW Florida, so that would be EVERYBODY.
They are especially cute with socks and sandals. ;)
I still have several vintage Hawaiian shirts that I bought in a Salavation Army store when in college (I believe this was about 1906). I also was a huge fan of old bowling shirts with embroidered logs on the back.
I wouldn't trust me either.
I worked with a teacher once who spent all of lunch duty looking for change the kids dropped on the cafeteria floor. Then he would buy himself icecream or cookies. Maybe he's related to this guy.
Hmmm, well, I was kinda gonna say something about the guy using pockets to hold his change, but you kinda ruined that whole line of reasoning at the end.
Figures.
Ha! What a perfect ending. I love looking at life through your eyes, Mo. I do not know if its due to your living in another part of the world or simply that you have better observation skills, but your life is much more entertaining than mine. Thanks again for a marvelous look out your window.
I've reached the point where I do not even try to retrieve change that I drop. I just let it go because picking it up results in my being the subject of someone's blog.
What would you do in Hawaii? They actually wear those things there.
Oh the bitter irony..it's SO sad, yet so hilarious, mostly sad. Well maybe not mostly.
You've hit the nail on the head with men being stubborn. My old boss once paid $120.00 for a trash can. He hadn't known what the price was going to be until after the checker rang it up. He said "Well it was too late then, I had to pay!" WTF??!?!?!
Coinage weighs me down. Plastic is where it's at.
Hawaiian shirts make me think of Tom Selleck.
I'm with you, Mo. Last guy I hung out with in a Hawaiian shirt, I had to divorce. It's bad luck.
When I was little my dad once let me keep any coins I found by picking up all the spare change on the floor in his room... I think I got about thirty bucks and he never let me do it again.
when i was in silicon valley all the execs wore aloha shirts.
to business meetings.
and sometimes for multi-million dollar deals.
Tee hee! Poor guy. Love Mo's description of him--thanks.
Hahahaha! Nice one, Mo... the only man I ever trusted in a Hawaiian shirt was Dom DeLuise..he is dead now...I now officially trust nobody in a Hawaiian shirt...and you have only supported my beliefs...
Great mythological references!
Note to self - Change is more readily found in peoples' pockets than on bus floors.
There is NO WAY I would have been able to control myself once the lady dropped her coins. They would have had to carry me off the train. :-)
A most eventful public transportation encounter.
How could you control the urge to roll a coin down the aisle?
I would have burst out laughing. No question about it.
If I ever move to the U.K., I am never taking public transportation for fear you are on it and chronicling my every move! *She says as she picks something out of her teeth and wipes he eye boogers*
I'd kill for the Hawaiian shirt. Everyone on my bus looks like a crack-addled bikie....
Muahaha. Brilliant post. When I see Hawaiian shirts, I run. Especially if they are worn by Midwestern tourists with fanny packs in Times Square. Egads.
When taking the train, feel free to smile and nod to people, but on the bus? No way, man! On the bus, the rule is NEVER MAKE EYE CONTACT.
It just draws the nuts right to you.
Umm I have more than a lot of Hawaiian shirts, one for every day of the year and then some. And I am trustable!
Mahalo
Charles
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