Also known as the “Post in Which Brittany Reveals She’s Horribly Judgemental”.
So I was leafing through my Facebook inbox on this exceptionally gray and slushy afternoon, and found one of my umpteen million Inbox messages to D. Now, me and D don’t get to talk too often since neither of us are phone people, so most of our day to day talking is through cell phone text messages. Every week or two, one of us invariably ends up sending off an epically long Facebook PM to the other to rant, bitch, fill the other in on anything big or interesting happening, etc and thus forth. The following is part of one I wrote back in April, after a particularly uncomfortable 4 hour trip to Bathurst.
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Oh yes, I was supposed to update you on a few things as well…Bathurst was interesting. Here is an entertaining, “this would only happen to Brittany” story for you..
So the trip is four hours, give or take some. The bus is pretty well empty, because who the fuck goes North? Though Miramichi was kinda cute. But anyway. Me being the loner that I am, I pick a seat near the back because I don’t see anyone in that area, until I get cozy and realize someone IS back there, and snuffling and coughing like they have the fucking whooping cough. By this point the bus is already moving, and I figure if I get the plague, I’ll just petition the government for medical marijuana and spend the rest of my days thusly, so what the hell ever. I put on the iPod and doze for awhile.
About 2 1/2 hours in, we’ve stopped at some gas station in the middle of nowhere, and I am curled up with “The Almost Moon” by Alice Sebold now. So far, so good. And then, the wheezy lady starts shouting to me (we are like 3 seats apart), asking me what time it is. I politely tell her, and then turn back to my book. However, her manners are lacking, as she gets up and sits in the seat behind me, and starts asking me all these questions like where am I from, where am I going, where’d I grow up, etc etc. I keep trying to make it clear I am not interested in conversation (I have my fucking earphones on, AND I am reading, I don’t know how much more obvious I could make it that I am not seeking company) by answering her questions pointedly, not asking her any back, and continually trying to listen to music and read my book.
But no, the endless questions continue about EVERYTHING, and I think we know how I feel about small talk as is, but stupid small talk pretty much pushed me to a whole new level. “Ohhh, is that one of those mp3 players??” SERIOUSLY, no, it is my cassette player, who in this day of age under the age of 90 has never seen an mp3 player? I felt at the time that her mind would have been equally as blown if I told her that not only is the sky blue, but it turns out the Pope is totally a Catholic. Also, if she can SEE the earbuds in my ears and the iPod in my hand, why can’t she SEE that I am also attempting to listen to music AT THAT VERY MOMENT.
And then she she finally notices I am reading, she asks about the book, what it’s about, etc etc, and then proudly proclaims that she usually doesn’t read novels, but she finally found an author she really loved. Me, being a hopeful fool and perhaps a sucker for book talk, actually get interested at this point, and ask, “Oh, who have you been reading? Maybe I’ve heard of them or something”. And then the answer comes that solidifies the fact that this women and I can never be friends: the author she is so proud of reading is DANIELLE STEELE. The shame of the literature world. I don’t even know what to fucking say to this as she continues to gush about how great Steele’s 500ish books are (seriously, how the hell can someone pump out so many books and not be realized as a hack by the general public???) but thats ok, because she just keeps on talking for both of us.
At this point I want to lock myself in the bus bathroom for the rest of the ride, so I ask her where she is getting off at, hoping it is the next stop or something merciful like that. And lo and behold, she is getting off at Bathurst as well. So I really AM stuck with this for another hour and twenty minutes of the bus ride. In this time span, she offers these jewels of conversation topics:
*Apparently she is only 3 years older than me, even though I was pegging her at 35ish. This could have to do with her being Randy’s equivalent in the female section of the Sears catalogue, with high waisted, tapered leg, acid-wash jeans and a unflatteringly striped turtleneck.
*She has NO TEETH. Apparently they fell out due to some childhood disease.
*Even better than her having no teeth, just that morning she had lost her top teeth in a trash receptacle at work, and thus was on the bus with half her false teeth gone. SICK. That could account for why she looked so much older than she was, as the lack of teeth gave her a slightly puckered, old person mouth.
*Also, apparently she has had 504535 diseases in the 25 supposed years of her life, aside from the one that made her teeth fall out. She had also had some sort of liver cirrohis (but not really, just kinda), and some form of cancer. She couldn’t specify any names of these diseases, so I had my suspicions she was making them up to gain sympathy/make herself more interesting.
*She hadn’t seen her husband, who lives in Bathurst, in a year as she was taking care of her mother in another city (don’t remember where, but in NB). Also, for some reason her child was being taken care of by relatives in PEI…HMMMM.
*She also has no friends. This made me feel bad for not wanting to listen to her random confessions (she was really going a mile a minute), but not nearly bad enough to slightly consider being friends with her. Seriously, Danielle Motherfucking Steele?
*She also raged on and on about how awesome and sexy her husband was. I saw him when we got off the bus; definitely NOT bringing sexy back. Was definitely scrawny, looked coked up, and very shifty eyed. WE HAVE A WINNAH.
By the end of the bus ride, she reiterates again how she has no friends and doesn’t usually go around approaching strangers on the bus (thankfully for the strangers), but she really wants to be my friend. She writes down her full name and phone number, and asks me to call her to hang out while I’m in Bathurst, and also that she and her husband will make a trip to Fredericton soon so they and me and Sean can all hang out and go on a date. She also asks for my number and full name, both of which I maaaaaay have lied about (for fucks sake, who wouldnt, I was trying to be as polite as possible, but I just wanted off the fucking bus at this point). Ok, wait what, you haven’t been to Bathurst to see your husband in a year and yet you’re going to make the 2 1/2 hour drive to Fredericton to hang out with some random girl you met on a bus ASAP for a double date? AHhhhhh….
Now if I wasn’t sufficiently fucking creeped out before, all of a sudden she remembers at the start of the conversation, I mentioned I was up for a surgery consult. She asks if I’m stuck overnight (which I was, because there are no round trips to Bathurst), and if I know anyone up there to stay with. I tell her I am staying at the Atlantic Host Hotel, and my surgeon’s office actually pays for most of my hotel fee (55$ hotel room won’t break me anytime soon). I was actually looking forward to having a night away, somewhere alone, just to chill and relax.
She starts insisting I can’t possibly want to stay at a hotel because she hates hotels, and says I just HAVE to stay at her place for the night, and her husband can drive me to my appointment in the morning. How about…NO. She tries a few more times but I tell her I am fine with staying at a hotel, and the bus finally arrives at the promised land of Bathurst at this point. I flew off that fucker like no ones business; I didn’t even care if I had all my luggage at this point, as all I can see flashing in my head is the news headline of “GIRL 22, KIDNAPPED ON BUS TRIP TO BE KIDNAPPERS BFF: TORTURE RUMOURED TO INVOLVE FORCED READING OF STEELE NOVELS AND MASHING KIDNAPPERS FOOD UP INTO A FINE MUSH”.
I hid in the bus terminal and called a cab to get me, but I still was forced to be graced with being introduced to the girls weasly short husband, who doesn’t speak the whole time while she babbles on and on about me. The torture finally ends when the cab picks me up and takes me away from the hell I had endured for the past few hours, with the girl waving frantically until we were out of sight.
