92 forced me into bikestitution?

Since I started riding my bike more frequently, I don't have as many "overheard" moments- many more "almost killed" moments. It took me about two blocks of riding before I was a full fledged agressive DC driver of a bike rider. I thought it would take me a few months, but I was wrong... I'm cutting people off, running red lights, going the wrong way down a one-way street... it feels good. Although I hate cabs even more than I used to for the many and creative ways they continually try to run me over.

One recent overheard on a bike moment? "Hey! You dropped something!" Yes, this juvenile utterance was shared by a group of fifty-something year old men. While I was riding down a busy street near gallery place, I assume the attempt was to make me turn aroud and look to see what I dropped and fall on my ass, seriously injuring myself? I'm not sure. Since my backback was zipped shut, there was no way anything dropped, but my momentary reaction to turn around while riding fast in a dangerous intersection was almost a bloody one. I would have much more appreciated random, uncreative crude comments about my body or something. More like the "mmm, mmm- damn that's a fine ass" that I got earlier this week. As if he could even see what my ass looked like while it was planted on the seat of a bike. Anyway, that's all for now.

Last night...

Back on the 92! On the way to Adams Morgan, anyway. I waited for about 15 minutes at a bus stop with four teenage thug boys who were, ahem, getting crunk, I believe. One of them couldn't have been any older than 16... he starts throwin' these hardcore rhymes my way, and looking me intensely in the eye. Some that I was able to capture:

"I been lyin in this coffin since befo' I got to coughin."
"You may not believe me cuz I be sippin (boy gestures to the styrofoam cup in his hand), but believe me... I ain't driftin."
"I see you with love, not hate (nods at me, as if to emphasize)- I don't mean nuthin sexual, it's yo' intellectual state."
"I like yo' bow (gestures to an ostentatious bow on my shirt) cuz it's black and white. And that's how the world be- black and white. (Points to hat) Black, white, and red like the blood. We bleed the same, black and white. You better believe it. You better believe it."

Finally, after informing me (after all this) that he is a "Metaphorical Rhymer," I told him I dug his rhymes (what else could I say?). He replied: "I respeck that If any n*gga try to step at you on that bus, I got yo' back."

At that point, the less drunk/high friend pulled him aside and coyly pointed out the giant police van that was parked in the driveway 1/2 a block away, presumably waiting for the crime they were about to commit. I couldn't tell, but they started throwing rhymes about the po'lice. I couldn't catch any good ones because their words were too slurred and I couldn't even capture the slang - it was beyond me. I got on my bus at that point, but believe me... I didn't really want to leave the scene.

Later at the bar? Let me preempt this visual masterpiece by apologizing for my lack of pictures, for words will never properly describe this haircut.

Culprit: middle aged lesbian bartender. heavyset. homemade tattoos.
The cut: the head was buzzed, except for the following: 1). a big highlighted tuft (slightly larger than a fist) that stood straight up on the top of the head, 2). little hairs (down to her shoulder) that started just at the nape of her neck, 3). One singular ponytail-dread (like one dreadlock) a few inches below the tuft. About the size of a pickle. Maybe a little longer, and 4). A few isolated really long braids starting just around her ears and hanging down in front.

That's not even a hairdo... that's an evolution. I'd never seen anything like it! Anyway, no good "overheards" from her because she was too angry to make conversation. Maybe it's because she knew I couldn't stop staring at her haircut. Seriously, it pulled me in!

Anyway, the ride home was exciting only because I had to pry my eyes open to keep from sleeping past my stop. It was a challenge at that point, but unfortunately no exciting passengers.

Property ownership. How you like me now?

On the X2: "Me personally? I own PG County!"

Hmm. A few initial reactions?

1). No you don't. If you did, why are you riding the bus to work like me?

2). Wait, you do, and that's why you're taking the bus to work like me. All of PG county is probably worth like 50 cents. Maybe worse, when you factor in costs/deficits from all the crime/unemployment/general deviant behavior.

3). Who the hell would brag about owning such a God forsaken piece of ground as PG County?

4). No you don't. You probably sell poor quality marijuana in small quantities to a few underprivileged kids there who pay you respect because they don't have a father figure in their life. Yes... you should be proud of that.

Anyway, my postings have been dwindling because I'm now confined to the x2 and rarely take the 92... X2 riders, would you believe that you have it good? You do! In the last month, I've witnessed such startling behavior as parents hugging their kids, young people giving up their seats for the elderly, and someone complimenting my haircut instead of glaring at me. Who would think I'd be disappointed by this?!

Comedy. Yo.

Come check out loyal "Overheard" follower & DC comedian Reggie Melbrough at Wonderland Ballroom in DC! Doors open at 7. If you're lucky, he'll include some fabulous 92 moments just for you.

Overheard at Work

One volunteer to another, in front of me: "She (me) kind of reminds me of Laura, right?"
Other volunteer: "Yeah, kind of. They do look a lot a like."
First volunteer: "But Amy got a little more weight on her."

Thanks, guys. Now I'm going to eat a giant ice cream sundae and think about the little more weight.