Never a Dull Moment

Well, I had another Megabus adventure.

In his shin-length royal blue shorts and bright white undershirt, long enough to never come untucked, the man, clearly high or drunk, wheeled his luggage over to a waiting car.  I assumed the man getting out of the car to greet him was his friend.  I assumed incorrectly.

Upon seeing the traveller, the driver frisked him.  Twice.  The first time he frisked him while he was standing, then the driver leaned the traveller against the hood of the car, spread his legs with his feet, and frisked him again.

“Man, I told you I didn’t have nuthin’,” the traveller said as he began to dance.  And my man was gettin’ it.  Every dance move popular between 1980 and today comprised his repertoire, plus he threw in some moves of his own for good measure.  He danced his way to the rear passenger door and kept on dancing, waiting for permission to enter the car.

Meanwhile, the driver got back into the car and gesticulated wildly while on his cell phone.  When he got out of the car, he went over to the dancing traveller and yelled at him, all up in his face.  Then he got back in the car.  The traveller never stopped his one man show.

The driver exited the car again, this time holding a white undershirt identical to the one the traveller wore.  He tossed it at the traveller, who began mopping his face with it, because, of course, his hard and steady dancing had made him work up a sweat.  Visibly frustrated, the driver re-entered his car and peeled out, almost hitting the dancing traveller.

After the car left the lot, the traveller composed himself, and all signs of inebriation and incapacitation vanished.  He walked back into the bus station and never came out.

Then I realized, that although he walked out of the bus station, I never recalled seeing him on the bus.  Of course, I didn’t see every single person on the bus, but it struck me that I had not seen him get off of the bus.  What else struck me is that he never got back onto another bus.  He walked back into the bus station, where he came from, and then he disappeared.  Like Michael Westin in Burn Notice.

I think he was a spy, or an undercover police officer, or an FBI agent, or something.

Bus lettering on a street by MichaelGaida on Pixabay at
Bus lettering on a street by MichaelGaida on Pixabay at

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