Butch Kassidy Rides Again

I was fired up and ready to post an entry, lambasting unsightly back acne- (after standing behind a young woman with a boat-neck top on, Monday afternoon at the crosswalk)- and the importance of exfoliation.

 But recent events (as recently as Tuesday morning)- have prompted me to veer off-course and share with you all, my dear and few readers, that I fear for my life. I feel that I may even need to apply for the Witness Protection Program in hopes of being whisked away to some undisclosed location, where I can ride the bus in relative obscurity and peace. 
Moreover, I should consider fuglying myself up, and not put forth any effort toward my vanity. 

Yes, perhaps I should board the bus smelling like a a Florida swamp, so as to offend and stave off unwanted attention. To hell with the hypnotically spicy perfume oils, the body butters, and the Dove deodorant I love to use. Shall I simply toss out the jasmine scented Tahitian Monoi body oil I apply immediately, after showering? Desperate situations call for desperate measures. I need to deflect. 

Why so desperate to be a filthy minger? Why do I feel the need to, with haste, get out of dodge? Because after 2 1/2 weeks of relative calm after my awkward discussion about my whether or not I'm "femme", Butch Kassidy rides again (insert sinister Michael Myers themed 'Halloween' music here). So there I sat Tuesday morning, in the hot-seat once again. Let me walk you through it…

 I nonchalantly boarded the bus Tuesday morning. Upon stepping up the few steps and depositing my bus card in the designated slot, I saw that it was more crowded than usual. For some reason I started to feel uneasy. Ignoring my intuition, I stared straight ahead and headed for a seat quickly, before the bus lurched forward, not wanting to fall flat on my face in a puddle of hot coffee. 

As I proceeded down the aisle, I heard a gravelly and demanding female voice ask, "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??!" 

I looked to my immediate right, and there, sitting right up front near the driver, was B.K. (
queue that 'Halloween' music). The corners of my mouth started to twist in a grimace and I headed for a seat several people down from her. There she sat… in all her studly, 'I'll beat your ass'-looking glory. Boisterous, loud, and demanding to know my whereabouts and other matters of the like. I accepted my fate and dryly answered across a man wearing a tie-dyed tee, "I've been riding this bus to work, that's where I've been."

"NO you haven't! I didn't see you on here!"
she barked.

"Um, yes I have MISS."
B.K.'s raucous inquiry was relentless. At this point, I took a second to scan the surrounding faces of the other passengers. Some looked on with amusement. Smirks dancing at the corners of their mouths... knowingly. Particularly a couple of the women.
and then to the bus driver for validation, "
Has she been on this bus all last week"

Yup." He said dispassionately, focusing on the road.

Dismayed, B.K. said,
"Man, you don't know whatchu talkin' about!! She HASN'T been on here. Remember when I asked you whether or not you've seen that young black girl, you said, NO!" she claimed.

Suddenly interested, the driver turned slightly and answered,
"I never said that. She's been riding the bus the usual time, everyday. You're the one who's been M.I.A. for two weeks."

"Aw, you just tryin' to take her side!"
she shot back.

So, apparently, my alleged absence from riding the 8:25
A2 caused a brief dispute between B.K. and the driver. Giving up on him, she turned to me once more and started interrogating me about what I did over the weekend and such. Mostly, I just stared blankly at her behind a mask of large, dark shades. 
Then she insisted on knowing where I lived. "Down there," I waved elusively behind my shoulder.

"Where?" She demanded to know. "Down here" I said, referring to the general downtown area as the bus pulled away from where I'd boarded. "You live in one of them high rises?" she asked, pressing for more.
Nope" I said. "Well," she concluded, "it must be nice if it's downtown. I should come visit you."
alarmed I answered dryly, "It's alright." I made sure to sound as discouraging as possible. So I didn't tell her how much I loved where I lived or how great the apartments are on that particular end of the downtown area. No need trying to invite unwanted company the one place I find sanctuary.

Giving up on getting my exact address, B.K. tried another maneuver...

"You live with your friend?"

"What friend" I asked impatiently. "I live with myself" I added, not waiting for her to elaborate on her question.
"Hey, you workin' at that museum today? I'm comin' to see you!" she insisted. "I ain't got nothin' to do today, so I got time to go to the museum and look around. I only live right up the street from where you work."
I scowled a little behind my shades. I was growing concerned.

"What's a good time to come?"
she pressed.
"2 PM"
I answered without hesitation. Knowing full-well that I had a 1:30 PM departmental meeting.
The department head was scheduled to give a Power Point presentation on upcoming exhibits. That was bound to last until 3:30 at least… which would leave me with :45 minutes left to my day. If she planned on showing up, like she'd threatened, I wouldn't be there to greet her or the gold toof I spied in her mouth. I felt triumphant.

Just then, two lithe Somali women
 swathed in colorful, flowing fabric and flip-flops, floated onto the bus with two small children. They sat across from us and began talking to one another in their native language. They seemed to hold B.K's curiosity for a bit, as she stared across at them with her mouth agape. 'Thank goodness' I thought, thankful for the brief reprieve from her hawkish grilling.

Suddenly, B.K. made some weird, random comment (
to no one in particular) about someone dying from AIDS and catching it in their feet… still staring across at the two women.

OOOOOKaaaay, pushy and not playing with a full deck' I opined to myself. The women didn't seem to understand or care about her comments and continued on with their discussion, not missing a beat and disregarding B.K. entirely. Finally, B.K. turned back to me and suggested that we needed to hangout. I merely stared at her, like I did the short Puerto Rican man on Sunday, who asked me if I spoke any English before relaying to me that he was from NYC and just released from prison as he thrust a thick pile of release papers for me to view. (that's a whole other story). 

B.K. reiterated her proposition once more. And again, not a word came from my lips. I didn't want to exacerbate matters or give her the false hope of a hot, illicit lesbian affair.
"I'm live in Bridgeport
. I ain't from here. I don't know nobody here, but him." She said, nodding toward the bus driver. "And he's a tramp. So I don't know where to hang out at. I go to work and I go home. That's it." She lamented.

After some thought, I said, "
Then hangout solo. I do all the time."

With that, her stop came up. As she got up to descend the few stairs, she turned to me once more and suggested that I should come and visit her. I shrugged at her. As the bus pulled away from Butch Kassidy, I slid over to assume her vacated seat.

She's different" the bus driver offered. "She doesn't know whether she's coming or going. She can't even remember what days she rides the bus. Don't go hanging with her in Bridgeport. She'll get you shot" he advised. "She's been shot before, in the leg. Besides, there's nothing to do in Bridgeport." '

"I wasn't planning on hanging with her in Bridgeport or any place else for that matter." I said with a smirk as I stood up to signal my upcoming stop. He smirked back, we exchanged pleasantries, and I departed and headed across the street towards work. This is just getting downright strange and undesirable. 

Today, I played the 'overslept' card and took a later bus, but I can't do this everyday. Look, I have no immediate plans to become someone's glorified pillow queen and I've seen Chained Heat enough times to know that a relationship with B.K. just wouldn't work out.


  1. U know what, Imma send u an" I like dyk" t-shirt... I would just tell her ass Im not interested in the nastiest way possible! You cant be subtle w/ a person like that.. abrassive tactics work best w/ those types....damn thats scarry girl...

  2. I'm laughing with you (you're laughing right?), I swear. That's just messed up. I can't fathom such a situation. The closest thing to it was when I was in school and this big girl kept grabbing my butt.

  3. thats bugged. but don't feel too bad... i had gay dudes try to holler at me as i walked from work to my house...

    it ws not that bad cause i only endured a block of it (it did not help that i let my hair out)

    but its bugged. i feel for you

  4. Anonymous4:16 PM

    Butchy-poo wants a cup o' hot COFFEY! hahahahaahahahhaahah Dude, you better be nice. She's just trying to show an interest in you and what you have to say. Stop being so stuck up and just go with it! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA You should have told her she was welcome to come with us to P-town, playa! hahahahahahahaha


  5. the adventures of butchtastic. hehehe that is some funny woman. gotta laugh still.

    did you just say you were going to Bridgeport? to see the mexican with the prison papers? lol.

    have a good weekend ;)

  6. JaeInVa8:14 PM

    First of all, ever thought of writing a book. Your mother told me about your webpage and I try to read it on a regular. Anyway, Lil' Cousin, about your dilemna...Ms. Butch seems quite CRAZY, so tread easy because she does not appear to be playing with a full deck. Think about that book.
    Your Cousin

  7. JaeInVa8:14 PM

    First of all, ever thought of writing a book. Your mother told me about your webpage and I try to read it on a regular. Anyway, Lil' Cousin, about your dilemna...Ms. Butch seems quite CRAZY, so tread easy because she does not appear to be playing with a full deck. Think about that book.
    Your Cousin

  8. I definitely feel your pain. I don't know anyones sexual orientation unless its brought my way. I told this chick one day that I needed to roll with the grungy face from now on ..to be less attractive. Recently, it seems that there has been an epidemic of BOLD gay dudes. They seem to have no problem speakin out the side of they face nowadays. And I swear it seems as if they try to look for converts. Fugg that shit..My Pops stayed around and I know what a real man is...and that's me...emasculation is not a part of my disposition. Sounds like you handled it well, I wouldn't have been so nice about it. One love sistren.

  9. Janice!
    How ARE you??
    I haven't see you in well... Years.
    I'm assuming you didn't just stumble upon this humble little blog of mine... I'm sure my mother let it slip that I had one.
    I'm glad you got to visit!
    Now you get to read about the weird haps in my life. Your sons are probably big now.
    Anyway, thanks a lot for visiting. What a great surprise to see your comment on here.