“well at least he’s not so late today.”
This quote from one of three men who wait at Southdale for the same express bus as I do when I don’t bike. I’ve taken to the nickname “The Trinity” when cataloging their odd…
The Tiny Badass
This guy shows up occasionally in a bright blue beret. He has anti-establishment, pro-awesome hair hanging a couple inches past his shoulders. (It’s thin and usually greasy, which provides as much disgusting as hilarious.)
This is made worse by two irrefutable facts: Badass is in his mid-forties and he probably weighs 120lbs with his 80s era bright blue ski jacket soaked through. The man is far too small for anything but a Napoleon complex bigger than its namesake’s to justify a bravado he so clearly has.
He’s someone who hangs with bikers but doesn’t own a bike because they’re too establishment. He probably saw many things I’d never want to in a war he didn’t believe in but the chip on his shoulder is heavier than he is.
Quote: “That place Lyle’s? I’m two blocks away and would never go there.”
The Slick Kitten
Both Slick and Badass are avid smokers. They stand in front of the bus stop while indulging themselves, shrugging their shoulders in the face of an imaginary authority that politely suggests they move fifteen feet to their left. With pride, they toss their still smoldering drugs on the sidewalk, into the parking lot or toward the grass because society tells them the sand-filled receptacles need be used.
Slick pines for expensive gadgets he will never afford. He doesn’t talk within earshot often (also, I almost always wear headphones), but when he speaks of magical features no tangible device has, my left kidney shivers. (That he usually attributes them to an iPhone is doubly hilarious.)
He’s taken to wearing shiny black shoes that clash so strongly with his frayed jeans it sparks concern that there are no women in his life. As soon as he finds one, he’ll toss his “too cool” for “too cute.”
The Aged Comedian
Without the nicotine habit, Comedian has to force his way into the conversation. He thinks up a comment no one cares about (you can tell because he smiles to himself), steps within a few feet and then drops said comment like slate tiles.
With his reusable, Colbert-emblazoned bag, he’s both too sure of his being hilarious and environmentally conscious enough to be innocuous. Add that he’s in his sixties and he’s basically invisible. He makes himself laugh, though, and that’s all that matters.
Quote: The title above, which he said every day for a week. That the bus was on time each of those days and hadn’t been more than three minutes late the full week prior makes me think he’s found his catch phrase. You know, if anyone were listening, which (read: said invisibility) they are not.
Photo courtesy Veer, obviously