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Weren’t My Cannabis February 16, 2009

Posted by A. Robinson in Bus Songs, Crazy Magnet.
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There are a couple of different stops on the Red route within a mile of my apartment.  If I wake up early enough I’ll catch the one by Toys ‘R Us.  It’s the 5th stop on the route, which means longer ride time in the morning, but I get home faster in the afternoon (and let’s be honest, that’s the part that really matters).  If I’m running late, I can always wait at Walmart, which is a few stops down the line but only a mile or so further away. 

This morning was a late morning, so I headed to Walmart.  As I pulled into the parking lot I noticed that a police car had pulled over an old silver Buick.  I thought it was a little early in the morning for that sort of public vigilance, but whatever.  I figured the person had either been a) sleeping in his/her car all night long, and the manager had called the police to remove the squatters or b) speeding.  

I only had to wait a few minutes before the bus made its way down the main street, so I piled out of my truck.  I stood in the frigid morning trying not to shiver as it rolled up to the curb; as I began to make my way towards the stairs, I noticed a woman hurrying towards me.  At first I thought she was special needs–many mentally disabled people ride the Red–but as she approached she seemed to be (at least decently) lucid.  She was probably in her early 40s and, like most of the non-traditional bus patrons, seemed a little worse for the wear.  

“That policeman almost didn’t let me go,” she huffed, completely indignant, cutting in front of me.  “I told him none of that weed weren’t mine, that it was all his, and he almost made me miss the bus.”

Sure, lady.  Whatever you say.

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Comments»

1. Lindsey - February 17, 2009

How do you find these people?


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