A Full 8 Bus at 8 P.M.

I painted for roughly 5 hours today, I left the building around 7:30-7:35, the guy that usually paints when I'm painting bid me farewell, though I didn't know him; he was in another class. Looking at the frame of the canvas, I found out his last name was Ferrari; interesting name.

I got to bus stop around 7:45. Not a bus in sight. Pacing back and forth, backwards and forwards at the bus stop. Slight hums, to keep the environment a bit lively. The streets are sparse, the people heading north was quite a crowd; were they a group? or they 8 hasn't cross yet. Someone else joined me; both minding our own business. Time was traveling slow as well.

A group heading north decided to whistle for taxi, though they passed as they saw the northbound 8 coming.

8:00. The 8 is on the horizon. Usually, the bus sits at the Harrison stop for a few minutes before continuing the route. It briskly made its way across the street. I was surprised. The bus, was not filled, to the brim, but the seats were filled, and standees were coming up to the Chicago Card device. I wonder why there was so many people on the 8 at 8 on a Saturday (sorry, the 8 combo broke).

Nothing, really interesting happened there after, though a small observation I noticed on the bus was, a man that got on who was a bit "off", to say the least; did not recall where he got on. For starters, I assumed he did not pay the fare as he got on, as one of the passengers told him the driver is calling for you, and shortly after he put some coins in the slot. I moved towards the back, but did not take a seat, he quickly saw an open spot and went towards the back seat. The three people were talking behind me, not mind them much. I was too busy staring at a grown man playing Pokemon Fire Red on his DS. Shortly, after the man sat down apparently he was looking at the girl's shoes, he asked, "Where did you get those sneakers? they're nice." The girl responded, and all I heard was downtown. The bus stops, and some passengers got off, a row of seats were empty, he moves towards that row. Another woman approaches the exit. He juts his head out of the row and is looking down. I noticed, there was a tattoo of stars on her foot, was that what he was looking at? He recedes back to his seats, and juts his head out again. The action confirms his interests in the tattooed foot. Did this man had a foot fetish? I assumed he did.

Shortly, after I arrived on 26th, and like routine I walked home. Filling my head with a fictional narrative, as I walked the lit streets of Bridgeport. Sometimes, an imagination is what keeps a walk enjoyable.

-David M.