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CHRONICles

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Monk2400
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Posted 05/06/08 - 3:23 PM:
Subject: CHRONICles
I found weed on the bus.

No kidding. I'm thinking I must be guided by the special hand of Jah, leading me ever on to more interesting situations. Of course it could be the other guy--the bad one, leading me ever astray down evil paths. But if you keep a simple faith that all things will turn out for the best, no number of siren calls can dash you completely against the rocks. Somehow, you will always find yourself washed up on the beach, safe and sound.

On the other hand, life is a series of concrete choices made in fortuitous circumstances, and sometimes serendipity arises. I've had my share of luck--both good, bad, and interesting. That's how it was the other day when I hopped on the public transit.

I usually take the bus around five or five-thirty, since that's when work usually ends. But that day I cashed in some overtime and took off early--just in time to beat the rush hour. Rush hour comes for buses too. Aside from the added road traffic, there's an increase in pedestrian traffic, and hence, more people riding the buses as the workday finishes.

My bus was moderately busy. I didn't have my choice of seats. These new buses have seats all over the place--sideways, backwards, forwards. There's even a little special seat--the throne we call it--behind the bus driver you actually have to step up to sit in.

I don't usually go for that one, unless its the best option. And I avoid the specially marked 'disabled and elderly' seats too, lest an old enfeebled Grandma get on at some point, and force me to vacate. When I get my seat I like to sit and stay. i don't go in for all this mucking around business. I also prefer the seats facing forward. Its natural to sit in a moving vehicle facing forward. The gravitational forces are balanced. But in a sideways chair I feel like my spine is getting an ill-designed workout. And the back-facing chairs usually are facing other people. Since I'm not particularly fond of gazing intently into the eyes of strangers, I don't take those seats unless there's no other choice.

The bus is a funny place. Everyone is taking it for convenience and cost, and many get on and off at the same stops, every day, yet rarely is there any sense of community or interaction. We stare ahead or out the window, or turn up our mp3 player and tilt our hats down and pretend like the other 30 people crowded around us aren't there.

I had two choices as I walked down the centre isle of the bus. Sit in the sideways chair that was guarded by a pole, or sit in the forward-facing chair at the very back. The thing about that chair was that two people were already sitting on either side of it, and one didn't look like he was willing to squish in and share the space. The bench-like seats of some buses allow an intimate sitting experience. I declined to force my way into the seemingly small seat, now obstructed by the one guy's left knee. Instead, I took the dreaded sideways-facing seat. However, it was only a mere 90' from the back-facing seat, such that my left side was now facing the guy with his knee sticking out, blocking that sweet, empty back seat.

Oh well, I thought, as I sat down, it's for the best anyway...look, there's something on that seat anyway....

But I recognized it right away. What might appear as a bit of rubbish to the untrained or sober eye stood out to me like a diamond on a black velevet cloth. There, snuggled in the very back most impression of the moulded transit seat, was a joint.

Well, it was a cigarette at least, a home-rolled one, but short and stubby. It looked dirty, grubby, and thus resembled trash, but I knew better. I couldn't be sure if it as a marijuana cigarette or just some herbal or tobacco. I'd been fooled by stuff like that before. Crack open a discarded but still smokable home-rolled smoke just to find out its filled with orange, not green. But, as I sat still and cautiously eyed the rollie I was betting my house that it was a real live joint.

I had only the briefest glimpse of the guy sitting in the chair beside. He looked young, had his hair a little longish, and was causal to the point of being a little grubby, but nothing like the hard-core shopping cart cowboys that roamed our streets and sometimes finneggled their way on to a bus. Average young guy, I'd say. If that was really a joint, it fell out of someone's pocket or knapsack, and they hadn't noticed. Maybe when they were rooting around for change or a phone or music player or something. It could be this guys'. I couldn't know for sure.

And I didn't want to stare, in case either he or someone else saw it. That's end the game right quick. If it was his, my only chance was if he got off the bus before me and didn't look down on his left. I wasn't worried about the other person sitting on the other side, because she was an older lady who was gripping her oversized purse as if bandits might at any time leap up and snatch it away. I did, however, have concern about another guy, sitting two seats up from me on the sideways bench, who seemed to have a habit of looking back out the rear window of the bus. He was older with a big grey moustache, but tanned and dirty, wearing workman's clothes and carrying a toolbelt. If anyone would spot that paper-rolled pearl, it would be him.

I had to find out if this thing was the genuine article or not. I knew then that I had to ride the bus all the way to the end of the line. There was only two stops before that where most passengers got off, as I did too on most days. There was a good chance that either the old lady or the young guy would get off at one of those stops. And when they did, I would simply shift my ass into the vacant seat. Then I could causally snatch up the rollie.

But if they didn't get off at all, then I'd look the fool if I sat still in my seat at the end of the line, as they rose and walked in front of me. Unless I created a diversion. I began thinking about how I could appear to be deeply focussed on looking for something in my pocket--something that I obviously could not do without before I rose and got off the bus. I just needed a couple seconds with no one looking.

As I sat there I tried to let go of my anticipation and curiousity. I couldn't resolve the question until the right time came. Until then I had to relax and forget about it. But the thought of that fat little rollie sitting there made my head spin with the possibilities. A gem settling to the floor in the madrush of transit commuters.

So I sweat for a while. But to my relief both the guy and the lady got off the bus at one of the busy stops. I immediately took my chance. I slid around my seat railing and planted my butt in the back-facing seat the guy had so courteously warmed up for me. Then, I was shook for an instant as I saw the moustached worker dude rise and make for the other back seat. With careful precision and attempted causal calm I reached out and snatched the cigarette with my left hand before the dude sat down. I wasn't about to be defeated. As I did, I caught eyes with a guy standing a ways down the bus, near the mid-doors. He was looking straight back at me. I thought for sure he saw what I did. But, if he couldn't make out what I picked up, he was probably wondering what it was that I had found.

He could wonder. But he'd never know.

I held the cigarette in my fingers, concealing it, and trying not to draw attention to the fact that I had picked up anything at all. As far as other people knew to look at me, I was just sitting there with my empty hands on my legs.

My stop finally came just before the end of the line. I stumbled down the corridor and out the mid-door, past the guy who had eye-balled me. As I stepped clear of the bus I felt relief and rising excitement. I hurriedly walked away from the bus stop and entered a little wooded pathway nearby. I had to examine my prize, had to be sure.

Now concealed by trees from passers-by, I lifted the cigarette to my nose. It always knows.

No doubt about it. That was weed.

And that's how I found weed on the bus.

Did I smoke it? You bet I did. Free weed, man. One has to be leary, of course, not knowing the source. It could be cut with something harsh or laced or anything. When I got home I ripped open the joint and spilled its contents on the table. Upon close examination it all checked out. It was just weed--purple kush by the looks of it. It had little bits of violet leaf mixed in.

It got me stoned. And I'm not dead yet. Score one for the transit toker.

8)
Nihil Loc
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Posted 05/06/08 - 5:15 PM:

I found a joint on the bus too a while back but it wasn't authentic, just filled with leaf. It was placed conspicuously in the grove of the windowsill arms length from a seat at the very back of the bus. Someone put it there with the hope of getting someone's hopes up.

Beware of the Toker's Death, just one brother to the others. He leaves little joints laced with a curious odorless substance in public spaces. If smoked you go to sleep and never wake up.

Do you keep a journal M.M.?
Monk2400
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Posted 05/07/08 - 2:10 AM:

Nope. I've flirted with it in the past, but never consistently.
Monk2400
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Posted 05/07/08 - 3:02 PM:

Nihil Loc wrote:

Beware of the Toker's Death, just one brother to the others. He leaves little joints laced with a curious odorless substance in public spaces. If smoked you go to sleep and never wake up.


Is that for real? What is that stuff??
Nihil Loc
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Posted 05/08/08 - 5:14 PM:

M.M. wrote:
Is that for real? What is that stuff??


I don't know. What could we put into joints that is cheap and effective to do the job?
Monk2400
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Posted 05/08/08 - 6:09 PM:

Sounds like the beginnings of a dark tale. A spiral down a rabbit hole that opens to the abyss.
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