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Saturday, December 18, 2010

December 18, 2010. Bus Stop

This afternoon I will be taking the Queens Boulevard Bus into Manhattan to meet my mother for Lunch. As a child, I often depended upon the Q60 Bus to go into Manhattan. I remember New Years' Eve 1973, my friends and I went to see "The Great Dictator," which was playing on First Avenue and 61st Street. That theater later turned into a porn house.

I was oblivious to the other people on the bus back then. Not so much anymore.

I can usually tell, upon entering the bus, if it will be a smooth ride. I greet the bus driver. This is a function of courtesy and also a test. If the driver ignores me, I'm in for one hell of a ride. Herky Jerky stopping and lots of horns. The second indicator is, does the driver wait for the elderly people to sit before he or she take off?

Most of the drivers are pleasant, some are terrors. I once had one pass me by, while I was standing at the stop flailing my arms. Because of the heavy traffic on Queens Boulevard, I was able to catch up at the next stop. When I said to her, "You drove right past me at the last stop," she responded that she "didn't see me." I'm not easy to miss. That was one hell of a ride.

The first few seats are reserved for the elderly and handicapped. I try never to take those. This way they're free for the 17 year old with the music so loud that the headphones barely muffle the sound.

Excuse me for digressing, but I just fell asleep at the keyboard. I found that I can sleep through anything. I've fallen asleep in Temple, in the Theater, even while having my teeth cleaned. It happened again.

I wake up a few seconds later to find that my page is filled with whatever letter I was leaning upon at the time. This may be the only concrete benefit to Parkinsons.

The truth be told, not even I can fall asleep on the city bus.

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