After saying goodbye to my friend Kate and boarding the bus at about 9:00, I realized something. I hadn't checked whether the bus in which I was riding was the 22 Clark-- the one I was supposed to be riding-- or the 36 Broadway. I asked the woman next to me.
With a slightly patronizing tone, she said, "Honey, this bus is the 36."
"Okay," I responded. "That's what I thought." 'Damn,' I thought to myself.
I kept my composure, however. I remembered that Broadway goes Northeast, so I would reach Irving Park eventually. I passed the time listening to two girls behind me talk about tequila.
I did, in fact, reach Irving Park. I got off and looked at my surroundings. A gas station here, a restaurant there. I walked with a confident demeanor, but let's face it, I had no idea where the hell I was. I wasn't completely hopeless, though.
I knew that if I were to get on the Irving Park bus, I would be going west. So I decided to go west. The first bus stop I came across was not in fact an Irving Park stop but an Ashland Express stop. Disheartened, I turned around and started walking the opposite direction, east. The next stop I came to was even more confusing; the sign said Clarendon Express... three times. While I was inspecting the sign, I heard a voice from behind me.
"Hey buddy." I turned around. The voice was that of a 30-some year old man sitting on the bench.
"Hi..." I said.
"Why don'tcha sit down" He gestured to the empty spot next to him.
"Um, no thanks." There was an awkward silence.
He broke it, but to a negative effect, "I don't smoke weed. Do you smoke weed?"
"Hm, can't say I do." There was another silence.
"Alright, don't worry about it." He said as I walked away. As I was walking, I pondered upon this man's motives. I boiled it down to three. 1)He wanted me to give him some weed, 2) He wanted to rape me, or 3) He wanted to rape me while we were both high on weed that I gave him. Whatever it was, it didn't help me out of my bad mood.
I walked west again. This time I walked past the Ashland stop, and whaddya know, not even a block away there was the Irving Park stop. However, once I DID get onto the bus, I had to wait another half hour or so, because the bus driver didn't really feel like driving the bus just yet. Once the guy behind me started saying things like "fucking bitch ain't got no cock," I decided it was about time to call someone.
When I finally got home, I was greeted by my father, who was wearing a hawaiian shirt under a blue pinstripe suit jacket, with tennis shoes, ripped jeans, and a straw hat.