“Is something going on back there?” I inquire in a soft, curious tone.
I’d been standing at the bus stop for over half an hour around a MAJOR pickup point, a bustling part of this city.
The bus driver slaps the fare box. “This is where you pay, that’s what I know,” he rails. “Are you going to pay,” the L.A. public transit operator continues in a furious tone.
If I were, I’m not now.
This particular bus claims to come every 5 to 20 minutes. Three scheduled buses failed to arrive; I was watching the real time schedule.
I didn’t even bring a purse, fanny pack, tote bag, anything, but you know what I did grab before I walked out of the house? My L.A. public transit TAP card! I was, and am (usually), prepared to pay because I want to see public transportation succeed! However, y’all gotta give me something to work with, L.A., fck!
Now it’s 30 minutes after the hour, I left my house 30 minutes before the hour. At this point, I should be on my last leg of this route, getting ready to get off and walk the few steps to Crenshaw Yoga and Dance, but noooooo. I’m still on the first f**king bus!
One of my big cousins that I’ve met and gotten to know a little bit since moving to Los Angeles is having a birthday gathering at a dance studio. It’s from 7-9p, the first hour being a Twerkshop. Movement, dancing, physical activity?! If anyone knows anything about me, that’s right up my alley! I enjoy moving this little booty AROUND.
I would’ve been early, for a change, but now, fooling around with this stupid a** motherclucking bus, I’m going to be late! Ugh! I don’t want to miss not a dance move.
Now we’re in bumper-to-bumper traffic where two main roads meet. All I see are red brake lights in front of me. I should’ve gotten off at the last stop and walked to the metro rail, that’s what I did the last time that I was on this line.
MotherF*CK! I don’t understand why my nerves are equally as bad every time L.A. public transit puts me behind schedule. Why would I even freaking expect the public transit buses to come as scheduled?! I LIVE IN FCK FACE AHH LOS ANGELES!
I live in Los Angeles with how many million more people that choose to live in this shithole of a city with thee absolute WORST traffic and worthless public transit system?!
Fck my fcking life. I’m standing on the Metro rail platform now, my cousin’s twerkshop starts in 15 minutes and the next train may not come for another 15 minutes, if this bih acts anything like the stupid raggedy fckass bus today. It’s says 7, but we’ll see.
I won’t hold my breath. Actually, holding my breath is something that I do often when commuting via public transit because people freaking stink, man.
I’m so flipping annoyed and I’m doing my best to not use too much profanity as I write on this personal blog, even though blogs are typically in a conversational tone, as I don’t want search engines to block my site from Internet browsers or some other stupid spit. (Is it even “cursing” though? My mother’s second-born child would say it’s seasoning a sentence).
Aïe aïe aïe.
The train ride itself is only a few minutes, unfortunately. (I prefer when the bulk of my commute is on the rail line; it’s less sickening). The next headache will be when it’s time to get on that 210 that travels up and down Crenshaw Blvd. Who knows how consistent that bih will be…
I maxed out my credit card putting half down on a couch at a showroom of fine Italian imports.
If anyone ever finds these pages, my personal blog, surely folks will think I’m a looney bird. Because who tf stresses herself out on public transportation in L.A. while refusing to have anything but the finest furniture in her home?!
I’m a rare bird.
But hey, Bird by Bird, as Anne Lamont’s dad told her brother, bird by bird.
And I’m almost positive there will be drinks at/after this birthday function. As I was saying yesterday, that’s what people dooooooo. A social function and an alcoholic beverage go together REAL BAD and I absolutely hate that for me… since I decided I quit drinking.
Maps is saying that it’ll be quicker to take the 210 down Crenshaw and I’m going to follow its instructions. I’m really hoping it doesn’t piss me tf off and make me wish I would’ve hopped my high yella behind down that K Line to get to Crenshaw Yoga and Dance.
Oop, there’s the 210!
[TAP] I wish I could tap twice, how this bih rolled up before I could even get worked up wondering when tf it’d roll up.
I hope no one that would randomly want to offer me a job comes across one of my frustrated writings. [nervous smile]
Oh yeah, child, looka dea, I’ll barely be 15 minutes. Lemme go’on ’head and sign this image waiver and liability release that my cousin sent me for this Trap Zumba class.
I want to read at least one page of this Short Stories in French, a beginners French reader, book that I brought with me before I get off this bus.
Later, y’all, let’s hope it won’t take my nerves being bad to open up the next blog draft.
In the event you’re reading this, thank you for coming AROUND.