2004-01-23 @ 4:47 p.m.
I've got a ticket to ride

Fortunately I was giving my car a rest today. It's already had two boo boo's since Christmas. Poor car-car. Nope, today it was on a bus. And it was all because of my undeniable lust for Married Guy's touch. See, how that gets me in trouble?

I had a massage scheduled for 11:30 and we were having a blizzard that would have scared Eskimos. A foot of snow. Howling winds. Wind chills somewhere between toe-freezing and death-inducing. But would I cancel my appointment? Hell no!

I'm the kick ass Irish girl! Stand on the corner and lose the use of my toes due to sub zero temperatures? Fuck, I don't need toes! Think of all the money I'll save on toe nail polish.

Besides I had came up with the most ingenious idea. I heated up my herbal heat pack in the microwave, right before I went out to stand at the bus stop and I put it on the face. Sure I looked like a geek, and it was little hard seeing the bus coming, but it felt so good...and of course I smelled like a stack of pancakes.

The bus was late as usual. I snarked at the driver when he pulled up. "You're ten minutes late, you know." He had on a pair of headphones. I'm not even sure he heard me. We stopped at another stop and another guy got on the bus and just started screaming at him that the previous bus driver had been really snotty to him. And then he started saying motherfucker and ranting and raving. The driver was still just staring straight ahead. And then the guy abruptly got off the bus. Guess he had said his piece.

I said to our driver. "I guess we're all a little grumpy today because of the weather. I'm sorry." He didn't look at me. Ok. Whatever.

Had to change buses downtown. Finally got up to Married Guy's neighborhood. Was walking up the alley to his shop and took a spill in the snow. Whoops. Splat. Yes, grace personified. I did hit my elbow rather hard, but I had so many layers of clothes on (think hockey player), that I managed to escape injury.

Finally got there. Was incredibly happy to get into the warmth. Told Married Guy and the troops about my fall. Married Guy was concerned. But then told them about the layered clothes and how I had bounced right back up into an upright position and they all laughed.

Yup, I am the Wittykitty.

Finally got into the massage room. Took quite a while to strip off all 12 layers of clothes.

Married Guy fortunately brought in 3 large moist heat packs and put them on my back and feet. They felt so heavenly, as did his hands on my neck and shoulders. He thinks I may have whiplash from my car accident last week. He said it can be delayed a few days sometimes. And he should know since he works with accident victims for a living.

He also suggested that I talk to my doctor and get a prescription for massages and have the car insurance company pay for them.

Hmm, sounds good. Sounds damn good! Massages once a week for 8 weeks! Wouldn't have to "earn" them. Well, I've already earned it, by being rear ended in my car and having an incredibly sore and painful neck.

But we had a really nice session together. It's about as close to emotional intimacy as I get and I really enjoy it.

After he left the room I did a little massaging of my own. I guess I was feeling all warm and fuzzy, and I massaged a couple of parts he had neglected to address, like my breasts and my abdomen and my..

Was it snowing out? Was is freezing ass cold out? How do I know...it was blazing ass hot in the massage room by time I got to the furry wittykitty basement. Yeah, I know "A", I shouldn't be doing THAT in a public place.

Finally got dressed. Looked in the mirror and I looked like I had just spent an hour in a tanning booth. Bright red. Damn those Irish genes. Can't hide my pleasable moments. Its really embarrassing.

Went out to thank Married Guy. He offered to drive me home but I would have to wait 3 hours. I said no, and then he said the strangest thing.

He asked me how I felt. I said pretty good, and smiled and then he said, "Well, I just wanted to help you feel like a loose woman today."

(...um....hee, hee...)

Well, you can't present me with a verbal opportunity like that and not expect me to bite so I said, "Well, how do you know I need help in that area?"

And he said, "Well I guess I wouldn't know, would I?"

Guess not, hon.

Unfortunately, whatever heat I generated in that 45 minute period, quickly dissipated over the next hour. After having some lunch, I went and waited at the bus stop. And waited. And waited. And waited.

Fruck! I slowly felt each toe slipping away to Frostbite-land. Bye wittykitty, its been nice knowing you.

I waited for 40 minutes for the bus. I couldn't even feel my fingers, by time I boarded. Plus I had to pee so bad, I could barely walk. And this was just the first of two buses.

Fortunately I had a half hour wait downtown so I went into a deli and got a chocolate muffin. I talked to the kid behind the counter who randomly mentioned that they had the warmest restroom in the city (and I didn't even mention I had to pee like a race horse), so I quickly shuffled off to the unisex bathroom, slamming all my stuff to the floor and just making it. And he was right. It felt like the bowels of hell. But oh how nice.

So I finally caught my second bus. A really nice looking guy let me get ahead of him. I acted dumb to the bus driver, asking him if my bus transfer was still good and he smiled and said "sure hon" and hit something that said override. I think he cut me a break since the transfer was over an hour old.

Bus culture is always interesting though. In California when I used to commute from Marin County to the Financial District in San Francisco, it used to be mostly yuppies. I remember one Friday afternoon, some well dressed young man pulled out a bottle of Champaign, popped the cork, and handed out plastic cups to everyone in the first few rows. He had gotten some kind of big promotion and wanted to share his good fortune with his fellow commuters who he rode with everyday.

Unfortunately, the bus riders here are not quite of the same caliber. And naturally, I had to sit in front of this really loud mouthed teenaged girl who spoke about 10 decibels louder than necessary.

"Yo, he wa fuckin' me up my mo-fo ass last night. Yo!" What is this "Yo" crap? She was white yet she was doing this bogus hiphop dialect. And there were African American kids on the bus. Was she doing it for them? Did they think she was as ridiculous as I did? I chose not to get involved here, even though I was about to go postal.

Fortunately she got off fairly quick and all I could think to say was "Bye mo-fo!"

Soon the bus was almost empty...and I was almost home and then it happened...

Craaaa-rash!!!!!!!!!!!

I didn't even know what had happened initially. It just sounded like a big crack. But I soon realized that the bus had hit a car that was pulling out.

I had barely felt a thing. So I thought, Ok, they'll exchange names, everyone would make nice, and we'll be on our way. Wrong! Unfortunately we sat there for almost an hour. We had to wait for the police. Then each passenger on the bus had to fill out individual accident reports. I started chatting with a friendly African American girl. She had just had a job interview and today was her birthday. Happy birthday!

It was rather ironic that I was only about 3 blocks from my house, but the snow was so deep, that I really didn't want to go cross country skiing with my frostbitten toes haphazardly tucked into my cheap unlined snowboots, so I just sat on the bus. What did I get for my patience?

A free bus pass for my next bus ride.

Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty