Archive | 2:40 pm

The Awkward, Dramatic Public Phone Call

19 May

So I’m standing on the bus. It’s finals week, I’m ready to take my final. I’m finally taking my final. Finally. Final.

The bus is packed, so I’m standing, holding onto a hand rail. The bus is relatively quiet, only a soft murmur of conversation every now and then. This is usually when I let out a little fart and then count how many people look over. For each person who looks over, I fart again. It’s a cruel game. I’m trying to work out my opening fart, when this girl behind me starts talking on her phone. At first it’s civil, I can deal with this. A-OK. I’ll just play my game next time. After awhile, however, things start to go south. DEEP south. REAL DEEP.

She starts to yell into her phone– but so she doesn’t sound one note, she also cries into her phone. I make a grimace of slight discomfort as I take a small step away from this woman. I don’t want to hear any of this, and nobody else does either.

“Listen! MOM! HE’S going to keep doing this forever! Why are you doing this to me?” She sobs into the receiver.

While she says this, I almost simultaneously  think to myself, “Listen! Kyle! She’s going to keep doing this forever! Why is she doing this to me?”

I tell my brain to snap out of it. That we can make it, but after 15 straight minutes of sobbing and yelling and whispering and then seeming to forget that whispering is an option, I have to admit to myself that she is putting me through a great amount of pain.

“What? No, I don’t have his fucking money!” She screams. Several people in the bus look away. I’m getting desperate.

I pull out the $6 in my wallet and nervously hold it out to her. She doesn’t notice me for some time, because she has her head between her knees, choking out each word. I poke her in the head with my keys and wait for her to look up. Eventually she does. Good. Oh shit, maybe not. She looks terrible. Sometimes people look ugly when they cry.

“Here…give him this…” Cha-ching, I think.

“What the fuck is this?” She asks. She seems ungrateful. I’m hurt. I really want to call my room mate from the bus and cry to him about how mean the girl is, but I fear this would make those around me uncomfortable. I wish she would’ve thought the same.

It’s money…for your…dad or whatever. Now you can be quiet. I fixed everything!” I smile widely and hold out my hand for a down low five.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

I’m a little offended. I want to give her a lesson in gratitude, but I don’t. Instead, I just raise my hand up like I’m going to hit her. Then when she flinches, I make her let me hit her in the arm 3 times. Those are the rules.

People in the bus don’t seem to like this. They express their anger by trying to talk to me about how inappropriate it was for me to trick her into playing a child’s hitting game. I then lift my fists up really fast and watch to see which people flinched. I try to hit them each three times on the shoulder, but before I could finish, they remove me (by force, what children) from the bus. I’m mad. I stomp around at the bus stop for about 8 minutes, cry for about 6, then fall asleep until dinner time. My room mate shows up about that time and carries he home in his strong, Polish arms.

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