TWO TWELVES, TWO NINES, TOO MUCH MATH

I took the 9 and the 12 to work today like I said I would. I left the house at 6:55 and got to work at 8:15 (ten minute detour to Stewart's included). I realized as I was trekking across the big parking lot to work that in the time it took me to take two buses just over two miles, I could have driven to Saugerties and been on my second Hot Texas Weiner; but no one eats hot dogs that early in the morning.

I spent most of the time waiting for the bus.

I found out the 9 only runs once per hour. Not realizing there were two 9s, I took the first one I saw knowing it would get me to Washington Ave. When I got on the bus, I had to squeeze by five high-schoolers and find an open spot to stand in front of the bus. All the riders were high school kids.

While I was standing there, dapper and cheerful in my scarf and leather blazer, I heard one of the kids sitting off to my side rap, "Lemme see ya faggots put ya hands up." He smirked at me. The girl across the aisle smirked at him. I tuned them out. A few minutes later, I was aware that the whole front of the bus was staring at me.

The rapping boy said, "I don't like gay people." The same girl that smiled at him earlier said he was homophobic. He said, "I am homophobic." She asked, "Yo. Yo, you don't like gay people for real?"

He answered, "Naw," and another boy next to him glanced over and said, "Shut the fuck up."

That was just about the time the bus turned a sharp corner. I wasn't expecting it, lost my balance, swayed toward the front of the bus, overcompensated, and swayed back around while the high-schoolers snickered and I almost dumped my big body into a young boy's lap. It was a little uncomfortable.

My mind raced through all the news stories in the past year recounting brawls and police arrests, and I thought, "I'm pretty much going to get myself killed three days before Mom turns 55." It was one of those hysteric moments; I was sweating fear, and was sure they could smell it, and I was also trying not to laugh because I was an idiot adult in a red scarf that couldn't hold on to save her life while the bus was cruising.

I got off at the high school (that was when the bus driver said there were two Number 9s, and I should take the other one that didn't say "Albany High School"). The driver offered to take me up to the corner, but I told him I'd just cut across the lawn. No problem.

Of course, I started walking off to the edge of the enormous lawn while passers-by looked me over, perhaps sensing that, even if some people don't believe I'm thirty, I don't exactly look like a high-schooler. I imagined myself through a high school window - a tall androgynous stranger, getting smaller and smaller and smaller, thinking I'm getting away, only to stop at the fence and stare as if I'd found the end of the world and didn't know where to throw the party. It was then I realized that Albany High is a compound, and I became its momentary prisoner. I couldn't wait to tell my friends.

I did find my way out, however, and made it without incident to Washington Ave., where I waited another twenty minutes for the 12 to arrive. Not the State Campus 12; the wrong one that I took yesterday, but I figured as long as I got off before the Bone & Joint Center, I was still doing OK.

I've got 12 nailed, but I'm not having much luck with 9. I remembered to check the schedule at work and realized the reason it never came back around Western last night was that it stops running by 7pm. For me to try to bus directly back from school at night, I'd have to take the 12 to the 13, which is counterintuitive because it runs in the opposite direction of my apartment, and is a longer distance. I could have tried it tonight, or taken the 10 or 11 and walked like I did last night; but tonight was mild, and the side streets more populated and better lit from school than from further up Western, so I just walked the whole way. It only took twenty minutes.

On a positive note, one of my classmates came up to me tonight and said he thought it was really cool that I was doing this blog, and encouraged me to keep it up. I plan to continue, at least until my month swiper runs out halfway into December. As inefficient as it seems to take the bus for very short distances, I still think it's a good way to travel. I just have to figure out when it's better to walk instead of ride, and when to wait for the next Number 9.