my other blog is a brain

This week I encountered a lot of interesting characters on the bus. A couple of them happened to be the drivers.On a foggy Thursday morning, as we crossed the Morrison bridge into downtown Portland, the bus driver exclaimed, “I shouldn’t have watched Stephen King’s ‘The Mist’ last night.” That got a surprisingly energetic reaction from the passengers, considering it was so early in the morning.

My driver on Wednesday night wasn’t afraid to drive and entertain either. He reeled off a half-dozen jokes. Three of the funnies had to do with President Bush, which the democratic crowd enjoyed.

As more people boarded the bus, the jokes got less political, but arguably more riske. One was about three surgeons in a bar, and right before I got off there was an epic joke about an American in Shetland having a sexy party with one of the natives. But my favorite was definitely the recycled ha-ha that went something like this:

“I got home and my wife said ‘take off my blouse.’ So I did. Then she said, ‘take off my skirt.’ So I did.  Finally she said, ‘don’t you ever wear my clothes again!’” Ha! Knee slapper!

Guy with parrot hat bragging about his hat collection.

This morning we also had a guy with a stuffed parrot hat. No a real parrot, but a plush, colorful parrot that was about a foot tall. He wasn’t all there, but that didn’t stop him from striking up a convo with one of the girls next to him. He proceeded to tell her that he was a bell ringer (I guessing for the Salvation Army) and his collection of plush animal hats bring in a lot of donations. Whatever works for you buddy. Somebody needs to put the parrot and the Cuckoo back in the cage.

Nothing very major happened this week on the B-U-single-S other than a detour the other morning because of an overturned truck on the Morrison Bridge. There was so much traffic that the passengers opted to get off the buses and walk across the river. It was such an eerie sight, like watching a zombie movie or Independence Day. Here are a view other things I witnessed this weekend.

-Neuroscience textbook.

-The distinct smell of alcohol.

-A girl talking about her extreme mood swings on her cell phone made out of her hand.

-The lady in front of my carried on her little Daschund dressed up in a space suit.

Last week Mike helped me come to the realization that in order for this to be a segment I have to produce recurring installments. Monica ferociously reinforced those claims a few days ago. With that I’m pleased to announce the birth of “From da Bus” Fridays. Neat…

Since the first entry was a trial version—a pilot episode, if you will—I am numbering this post 001. It’s unlikely that I’ll be riding the bus for 999 weeks, but if that does happen then this numbering format is fudged!

-Here’s what I observed since my last installment:

-One amazing hand-carved wooden cane.

-Nine pairs of Chuck Taylors.

-Two scrunched shoulders (mine).

-Twenty billion germ colonies (I’ve started taking Emergen-C to help build my immune system. I also think I’m developing OCD because I wash my hands when I get off the bus.).

-Six people on their cellies at the same time (that was against the rules if you were aboard LTD in Eugene).

-On guy that looked like he was going to vomit.

-Ten distinct body odors.

The Burnside Bridge is closed so we’ve been detouring over the Morrison Bridge. It makes the ride longer, which just means more time for me to observe. Sorry Mon, no poem this time.

NOTE: This is the first installment of a series I hope to create that will showcase the nine bridges of Portland that cross the Willamette River.

The spectacular collection of Portland bridges starts in the far northwest area of Portland. It is located approximately five miles out Highway 30 heading towards the towns of Scappoose and St. Helens. Crossing the large green bridge will take you to the west edge of North Portland known as St. Johns. While you’re there, don’t be afraid of checking out the downtown area and the Taqueria that is next to Proper Eats. Try the carne asada tacos that go for a buck apiece. Then head down to the park that sits right under the north end of the bridge. That’s where these photos were taken (still trying to figure out how to show them scaled down).

StJohns1

StJohns2

StJohns3