Dear Drunk Guy on the 22 Clark Bus,

When you walked on the bus last night, I knew that something was different about you. First of all, you ran down the bus aisle all the way to the back, and nearly fell on me. You looked seemingly harmless; a moderately dressed African American man with a unique aura surrounding you. It was only as you came closer that I discovered the unique aura smelled a lot like cheap scotch.

I had once heard that in the African American community, men even if they have never met, typically acknowledge each other when their paths cross. It's usually as simple as a head nod, sometimes accompanied by a " What's up?" But that's much too simple for you. You chose to lean slightly to the left, with a focusing one-eyed glare and pointed at the other African American man sitting near us. Classic.

You proceeded to speak loudly on the bus and told all without Ipods in their ears about how "You'd be a rich man if you didn't smoke and drink" as you got a can of Milwaukee's Best from the plastic bag convenience store bag you're carrying and cracked it open. A rich man indeed. You told us of the condo you'd own, the cars you'd drive, and the women you'd fornicate with. My favorite was a particularly charming tale about how you blew through $12,000 in a weekend. You were "living the good life" in a fancy hotel. One where you could get carry out anything: carry out pizza; carry out liquor; carry out women. Ah, those were the days.

As I approached my bus stop, I was almost sad that I wouldn't get to hear you lament about how they don't' make furniture as sturdy as they used to, and how when you touch a car nowadays it dents. But you wouldn't let me leave without something to remember you. How wonderful it was that when I got up and made my way towards the door, you shouted out "Cracka!!! Cracka!!" which I can only take as your endearing way of calling me 'Cracker.' I'll treasure the last drunken phrase you uttered to me until (if fate should have it) we meet again.

Sincerely Yours,
Philthy (aka Cracka)

I'm officially that creepy guy on the bus

A couple of months ago, I started taking writing classes at The Second City, which is one of Chicago's (and the nation's) premiere sketch comedy venues. I signed up for an intro comedy writing class, mostly just to use as a creative outlet. I've found that I really enjoy the classes, and attempting to make my writing more creative, concise, and (hopefully) more witty.

So one thing that I've put into practice is being more observant of the people around me, which are all potential characters in a sketch. I've always enjoyed people-watching, mostly because I liked to create stranger's life stories for my own amusement. But now, I've ramped this people-watching to all new levels. I'm staring at people at lunch, in bars & restaurants, and especially on the bus (which anyone who's ever spent any substantial time riding the CTA knows the buses are full of characters.) I've also started carrying a little notebook with me to write down any potential ideas that spring up before they're lost in the vast crevasses of my mind.

But recently I've come to realize that spending my morning commute staring at a strange guy who got on at my stop, while creating a story in my mind about how he got the scar above his right eye, all the while scribbling in my notebook can come across as slightly creepy. So I think I'm going to tone it down a bit, and try to avert my eyes when possible. But hopefully, in the coming weeks as I continue with my comedy writing education, you, the faithful readers of Philthy Laundry will be able to benefit from my peculiar observations.

When Opportunity Knocks...

Something I've been learning lately, is that life is all about seizing opportunities. For most of us, great opportunities rarely come by, and when that door is opened, you must walk through boldly, or else condemn yourself to that haunting "What If..." reverberating in your head.

Ironically enough, I was thinking about opportunity on my commute this morning. My alarm failed to go off, so I woke up late, and was running really behind. It was also one of those days when I waited for what seemed like an eternity to catch the bus, and when it finally came it was pretty full. I managed to maneuver my way to the very back, and wedge myself into a seat. As we headed further South, the bus started to fill up more and more, until finally it was at it's capacity. People were crammed in like sardines, and it was at this point, two and a half stops away from where I get off to transfer, that I was trapped. There was no way I was going to get out when I was supposed to without causing a calamity. I had pretty much resolved to just stay on the bus until it got downtown and then just walk the mile or so to my office. But just then, a stop before mine, the woman sitting a few feet away decides she's not going to be taken prisoner by an overcrowded CTA bus...and she starts to barrel her way through the mess of people towards the door. This was it, it was my opportunity to travel along with her to that distant door in hopes of reaching the other side. I jumped up (or rather slid out) of my seat and followed behind her. She pushed and pulled and divided the people like Moses parted the Red Sea. My own raven-haired Moses in a black North Face fleece jacket.

I walked a few blocks to my other bus route to finish my daily adventure downtown to the office. Naturally, I arrived just as the express bus I would normally take pulls away, so I'm forced to get on the next bus (a non-express version that gets me to the same place, but takes twice as long to get there.) When I get on, the bus is relatively empty, so I get my choice of several seats. As I make my way towards the back, I almost don't see her...the cute girl from my guitar class is sitting along the window reading a book. I take a seat and debate whether I should get up and move closer in an attempt to talk to her.

Before I go on, there's a little back story here I think I should fill you in on. Last week at my guitar lesson, cute guitar girl (hereby known as CGG) came up to me and asked me if I take the 151 bus. I said yes. She then asked if i got off at the Roslyn stop to which i said yes, again. Then she told me she saw me that day on the bus, but wasn't sure if it was me so she didn't say Hi. I playfully called her a stalker, to which she kind of smiled, but kind of turned away like I might be a creep. (I know there is a short list of things you shouldn't say in front of a woman you barely know, and I realize that the word "stalker" is one of them. I just tend to talk before I think)

As I sat there in the back of the bus, I thought about all the things that had happened that day to put me in that seat, on that bus, at the same time as CGG: My alarm didn't go off, so I was late and had to wait for a bus, which would have trapped me had it not been for that woman who forged the way to the door. I just missed the bus I normally take only to end up 13 feet away from her. It seemed as though opportunity was knocking.

Casually I make may way up to the front and say hello. She cheerfully greets me back and marks the page of the book she's reading. We have a nice casual conversation about the weather, our guitar class, the city in general. It was a great "get to know you" conversation; something that after 8 weeks of barely being casual acquaintances we hadn't yet had the chance to do. Before I knew it, I looked out the window to see my office building as we approached my stop. We said we'd see each other later, and with a smile, I waved good-bye as I bounded out the door. It was like a scene straight out of a movie; One of those hopelessly romantic ones starring John Cusack or Sandra Bullock.

At least that's what could have happened had I actually gone up and said something to her. Instead, I sat there like a dope playing imaginary versions of that could-be conversation in my head all the while contemplating over and over again whether I should get up, or wait until she gets to her stop, accidentally running in to her on the way out.

In the end, I did nothing. Mr. Opportunity had opened door, and instead of boldly walking through. I nervously side-stepped outside of it until it was slammed in my face, and he called me a pansy.

the day I got into a fight with a transvestite on the bus

First off, many apologies for being MIA recently. It seems it's hard for me to do much of anything lately, including blog. I'm hoping these types of absences will be rare here at Philthy Laundry...so hang in there. Now on with the show...

A couple weeks ago I had quite possibly one of the worst days in Chicago I've had since this dreadful event. It had been a stressful week. I had flown back from Ohio on Monday, and things were pretty rough at work since everyone was recovering from a long Labor Day weekend. When Friday finally approached I was excited to just get the week over with. When the end of the day arrived, and I raced out the door, anxious to get home and relax. Much to my dismay, however, relaxing was the last thing that i was in line for.

First of all, I waited for quite a while for my bus to arrive, which on a Friday afternoon is not atypical. I was getting a bit agitated, however, because the skies were growing darker, and it seemed as though a thunderstorm was imminent. The bus finally arrived and I boarded excited to get a single seat near the window (which is one of the most coveted seats in all of public transportation.) The bus pulled away from the stop, and about 3 blocks later, stops suddenly. Apparently, the power steering went out, and the vehicle is refusing to move, so we all have to get off and wait for the next one. At almost the exact moment as my foot hit the cement of Michigan Ave, the skies open up and it starts pouring. Tourists and locals alike are scrambling for a place to take cover along the crowded streets. I decide to cut my losses, and run to the nearest bus stop to catch a new bus. Unfortunately there's a stretch of Michigan Ave where my bus doesn't stop for about 3 blocks, and I was in the middle of that stretch. Eventually I make it to the awning of a department store adjacent to a bus stop, and wait for a new bus to take me home. When one comes, I board again, pay again, and this time stand next to some lady who is practicing for the "elbow me in the ribs" event at the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. If that ride was any indication, I think the gold medal is hers.

I eventually reach the first of my two bus stops, and make my way to catch bus #2 of my commute. Much to my delight, it arrives relatively promptly, and again, I get a seat. By this time the rain has subsided, but my misshapen clothes are hanging off my body and still patchy with dampness. More or less I look like someone on their first week of homelessness (overall still keeping it together, but beginning to unravel at the seams)

A few stops into this trip is when this story gets Legen...(wait for it)...dary!

An elderly Hispanic woman gets on the bus and sits in the seat closest to the driver. She sits and is fumbling through her purse looking for her fare card. Following closely behind her are two African American women. Wait, let me rephrase that. ONE African American woman and one African American man dressed as a woman (hereby referred to as tranny.) They sit in the seats next to the Hispanic woman, who when she finally finds her fare card, stands up to pay for her bus ride. Apparently when she got up, her elbow accidentally hit Tranny's arm, which caused a bag of clipboards Tranny was carrying to fall onto the floor. This upset Tranny and his/her friend a lot, and they start screaming at the top of their lungs at this poor woman, who I can only assume doesn't speak English very well based on her frightened and confused reaction to the situation. The two "ladies" are calling this women B**** this and B**** that and threatening to follow her down the street when she gets off, etc. I am sitting there, absolutely stunned that this is going on. Then the actual woman gets a hairbrush out of her purse and runs up to the woman, holding it over her head like she's going to beat her with it. Thankfully, the bus driver stops the bus and attempts to calm everyone down. The two "ladies" sit back down and promise to behave, which is a promise they keep for about 5 seconds. They keep yelling at this woman, calling her names, etc. Finally the tranny says something like "You should learn to respect people that are young enough to be your granddaughter."

It's at this point that the stress of my week, and my day have pushed me over the edge, and I interject by saying, "Maybe you should respect someone that's old enough to be your grandmother. It was an accident, let it go, and shut the hell up!" I look up and the bus driver is looking in his rear view mirror shaking his head in disbelief like "Oh no you didn't."

The Tranny responds by babbling on and on about how "You should mind your own business" and "You don't know me, you don't know where I come, you have no right to talk to me like that" etc.

Again, I respond with "You made it my business when you threatened this woman for an accident and raving on about it like a lunatic for the last 5 minutes!"

Tranny's not happy. And by now, the adrenaline of the situation is starting to wear off and I remember that even though this person is wearing lipstick, high heels, and a skirt, doesn't mean it still isn't a rather large man who could probably kick my butt, and whom I've just intensely provoked. I'm starting to get a bit nervous just when Tranny gets up and approaches me. Tranny gets in my face and says, very calmly, "Look B****, I don't want to have to cut nobody today!" and cocks his/her head back and forth looking at me with big bugged eyes. Thankfully the bus driver pulls over and gets up again to intervene, and I didn't have to witness where and with what object Tranny was planning on "cutting" me.

A little frazzled, I got off the bus with a large group of people at the next stop, and decided to walk the rest of the way home. Luckily, I wasn't followed.

As I walked home, I couldn't believe my luck. At first I was just wishing I would have stayed in bed that day and called in sick...but if I would have done that, I would never have been able to tell the story of "the day I got into a fight with a transvestite on the bus."

Definitely worth walking an extra 6 blocks to get home

On my way home from work on Tuesday, two high school aged boys sat in the seat behind me on the bus. Typically on the bus I'm concentrating on touching as few of the surfaces as possible with my bare skin, and keeping the weird man standing next to me from inadvertently touching me. Today, however, the only thing i could concentrate on was their conversation. These bright, young, future hermits were speaking emphatically about Greek Mythology. I listened to them dork out and go on and on about Poseidon this, and Zeus that. As I watched my bus stop come and go through the smeared dirty window, I was paralyzed with awe and amazement that these two people had just entered my life. And boy am I glad that missed my stop to stick around. Otherwise, I would have never heard this:
"So yeah, like Oedipus was all like 'Hey Dad, Mom's rollin' with me now. See ya' "

Amazing.