Sam

Last night I was on the 70 bus around 2 AM. I was sitting next to this ridiculously drunk bald guy who I had an approximately thirty minute long conversation with. Ironically, I said absolutely nothing throughout the entire exchange. In fact I was nodding of to sleep for most of it. He just mumbled on an on incoherently while pointing at my face and then down at my shoes. I would understand the occasional word: "nike", "motherfucker", or "the FBI", but the rest was just this steady hum of nonsense. The perfect lullaby.

When I was stepping off the bus I said goodnight to the bus driver and she just nodded. Then she looked up into the rear view mirror and smiled, half yelling, "Quiet down now Sam. People are tryna get home." The doors shut behind me and I noticed that Sam had already changed seats and was now talking to the old guy who sat two seats ahead of me. The man looked more agitated than he needed to be. Then again, I guess I have no idea what was going through his head.

This whole encounter replayed in my dreams last night too. I found myself wishing that I'd said something to Sam, or smiled, or just let him know that I was listening. I guess I didn't really know the guy, but he obviously wanted to know me, whatever his drunken intentions. Is it really that bad that all sorts of people, from all walks of life want to reach out to us? I think we occupy ourselves so often with the idea of "inconvenience" that we don't give people the chance to change our lives, even if just for a moment. Hell, for all I know, the guys could have been a riot. Then at least I would have laughed once or twice before bed.