So, the handicapped guy on the bus is really starting to creep me out. I know it’s not a very PC thing to say, and maybe not even legal, but the dude is giving me the heebee jeebies.
He’s tried talking to me once or twice before, and all I can do is smile and nod because I have no idea what he’s saying. Last week, he was smiling and pointing at me and then making drinking motions with his hand. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to ask me out for drinks or he found out about the flask of rum I keep in the pocket of my kate spade handbag. You know, for emergencies.
So a couple days ago, he gets on and decides to spread out along the row of seats in the front because we’re the only ones on the bus. That would’ve been fine, except he lies down facing me instead of the front of the bus. It reminded me of the time my sister and I were sleeping on the beach and looked up to find a row of about ten people on beach chairs all lined up facing us, backs turned to the ocean. Creeped us the fuck out.
I feigned sleep yet again—my only defense on the 441—and hoped that I would not wake up to a nightmare. Luckily, my flask was still there when I reached my stop.