Every morning I wake up at the goodly hour of 6am (at least I'm supposed to, sometimes the snooze button gets pushed too many times and my dad comes in wondering why I'm not ready), get dressed, drive an hour with my dad, and then wait for the Regional Transit bus to take me off to another edge-of-your-seat day as an assistant archivist.
Since doing this last summer, I've started noticing the regulars every morning and afternoon.
There's the elderly Asian couple who ride every afternoon, clutching their grocery purchases and nervously glance around, as though someone is about to pop out and steal their bok choy or their invaluable carton of milk.
A woman rides my bus every afternoon. She works in my building. Every single day, she carries a stuffed backpack, a purse, and at least two or three shopping bags full of who-knows-what. My only question is, why? She works for a state agency and, as far as I can tell, is not homeless. The carrying of her life's possessions to and from work each day? I don't understand.
Then there is the "outfit guy." This man, as far as I can tell, works at one of the many state agencies, but instead of the requisite khakis and plaid shirt, he has decided that every once in a while he will put together an ensemble, chosen after much deliberation and compilation. This morning was "Western Friday" I guess because the guy was decked out in studded jeans, cowboy boots, a western shirt, and of course, a matching cowboy hat. Other days have been "Gangster Wednesday" or "Hawaiian Thursday." It's as though each day he doesn't want to admit that he does work for the State of California and pretends that he has a different occupation, whether that is "Cow-Herder" or "Guest Relations Coordinator". I just wonder what his boss must think before he arrives each day. "Oh no. Is this going to be a 'Nudist Colony Activities Director' day?!?"
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