Coffee Rhetoric: Bus Tales: Miguel

February 01, 2008

Bus Tales: Miguel

This Friday was a long and tiring day. I'm convinced that once Friday comes, we're put through the ringer on purpose by some antagonistic force, as a way to make us EARN the luxury of relaxing, after having made it through another tedious work week. The day drags on, there's one annoying occurrence after another, your feet hurt, headaches abound, and no amount of watching the time will make it go any faster. You're stuck. You simply must ride the wave until you're finally washed ashore, gasping from its impact. Speaking of washed ashore, it also rained buckets, like a pregnant woman does right before she gives birth. It was chilly, wet, dreary and gray. Making today even longer and more harried.
In any event, I got my favorite and most comfortable pair of boots repaired. Shoe repairmen and makers impress and fascinate the hell out of me. I'm always stoked when I go pick up a pair of shoes that I've taken in to be repaired at a relatively low price. It's like buying brand new shoes. Of course my favorite part of the transaction is seeing the satisfaction on the repairman's face, as you exclaim, "Wow! They look great! Thank you!" as he nods knowingly. In any event, I braved the element called rain to go get them. I simply couldn't wait until Monday. I wore them home. The bus ride home was equally as tedious, in addition to crowded, long, and wet... but oh so amusing. Let me explain...
A harried Hispanic man with is head shaved completely bald, clad in light wash jeans (very late 80's, early 90's), and a thin hooded jacket boarded the bus holding an open can of Coke. Rather than sit down, he stood next to the driver and directly in front of me rambling on in a gravelly voice... in Spanglish to the bus driver. The conversation went as follows...

"Mira! You goin' to Garden Street?" Bus driver (also Hispanic) nods. Then asks him in English where he needs to get off at. Agitated, the man then launches into some strange (and extremely comical) story about his roommate Miguel. He says some other things in Spanish before loudly exclaiming, "Man, I just got back from Home Depot! I had to go cash my check and go all da' way to Home Depot because my roommate Miguel, he left me with $1001 in back rent!!" He mutters some other things in spanglish to the driver. "My roommate just escaped from the convalescent home and everything and the cops came lookin' for him, right? The cops kicked in my door man! Lookin' for Miguel. I told them he wasn't here! They had the nerve to tell me I hadda pay a hundred dollas to replace that door that THEY kicked in!!"

Bus driver mutters something I can't hear because I've got my face buried in my coat, trying to hide my smirk. Miguel's roommate complains,
"I said, how come I gotta pay it!! I didn't kick it in! Ya'll kicked in my door and now I gotta pay?? Man, I went to Home Depot and bought everything I needed. I bought a new lock, the cement (or whatever he said) to make it hard... I said I'll fix it mahself! I paid forty dollas for all that stuff! I fixed the door myself!" They came kicking in MY door, I said Miguel ain't here. I live here. This is MY apartment. I pay the rent!"
"Yo, they kicked in my door. I fixed everything but the lock. THEN they told me I gotta pay fifty dollas to replace the lock!"

"You know, Miguel he's, he's 62 years old and he escaped from the convalescent home, and they lookin' for him 'cause they said he suicidal! He's got a lotta pro'lems!"

"Yo, so look... *insert more spanglish*... then Miguel had the nerve to come ova' to MY place, breakin' up my mailbox and shit... so I took pictures of him, you know, destroying my mailbox, then I beat his ass down! I kicked his ass!"
"I got arrested for assault! I was like, look! Mira! He came over destroying MY property, so you know, I showed them the pictures I took on my phone, of Miguel trashing and breaking up my mailbox and shit. So they reduced the charge to disturbing the peace! I hadda go to court and they just gave me a PTA (whatever that means) and that's all. But still. They still lookin' for Miguel. Alright man, gracias!"
Then he proceeds to grab his open can of Coke, flick his hood up on his bald head, hunched his shoulders in response to the wintry chill, and descended the stairs, thereby concluding the embattled tale of Miguel. ...

Fin