Virginia

Virginia
Virginia, not west Virginia. “I may be as big as west Virginia, but no, its Virginia” With her candy apple red lipstick, dolce and gabbana knockoff glasses, and sky blue thermos, Virginia was a hard one to miss. I was catching the #15 bus to the light rail, and noticed her suddenly as I stepped onto the bus to take my seat. She was conversing with an old handicapped couple, and had an alarmingly loud voice. With every guttural laugh that escaped her mouth, the dragonflies on her skirt would twitch as the peacocks on her cardigan danced.
I never seem to take the time to observe the people that I encounter each day, but after taking careful notice, it’s like walking through my own documentary. Every person has their own character, their own personalities. If you take a second to imagine each person’s life path, where they came from, where their headed, it makes it day a bit more interesting.
After leaving the bus with Virginia, I stepped onto the light rail platform to catch my train to the city. There was a man sleeping in the seat across from me. Legs spread, eyes bloodshot and peeled open, dreadlocks mangled into a mess like none other that I have seen. I was expecting him to emit a certain odor, but surprisingly he kept to himself and I noticed nothing. I tried to mind my own thoughts, even with my ipod plugged in, but the man sitting next to me was telling his life story to a stranger he had never met before. He was unemployed, arrested when he was 16, and his life had consistently gone downhill. With a felony on his record, he can’t get a job. No car, no wife, no family, he was alone. He could apply to get the felony taken off his record, but he doesn’t have the money to do so. He was in a fairly nice outfit, slacks and a tie, but the woes of his life were evident and hard to ignore.
After he left, and I tried to tune out the people around me, on steps another distraction. This time, in the form of a slightly senile cat lady. She seemed like just another city street character, but it wasn’t until I heard her scream the name “WORM!” did she catch my attention. Suddenly, the man who had been quietly sleeping across from me, wakes up, stunned. He was obviously pissed that someone had woken him up, and even more pissed that it was this lady.
“How ya doin worm?” she said, in voice roughly three levels above appropriate.
“I’m fine” he replied.
“Stayin’ outta trouble?”
“Tryin” he mumbled. He proceeded to take out his cell phone, and started playing a game on it, in attempts to ignore her. When that didn’t work, he started playing ring tones on it in order to drown her out. When that didn’t work, he left. Just like that, walked out in the middle of her sentence, and vanished. But the woman wasn’t phased.
Apparently, I had been staring at these two for quite some time now, and was totally unaware I had been doing so. I was staring at the movement coming from the lady’s backpack, wondering what the hell could be in there. I turned away quickly, and accidently made eye contact with this crazy woman. FUCK
“It’s a cat,” she said. “Well, a kitten.”
I just looked at her, pursed my lips, and smiled politely.
“wanna hold it?” she insisted.
“Na, I’m good thanks. I’m allergic” I replied. I’m not actually allergic, but I’ve learned to think on my feet lately.
“Well hell, allergies are a conspiracy that doctors made up to get us on medication. Just hold her!”...
and she put the cat on my lap. Yep, just put it on me, no choice, I had a crazy cat woman’s fuckin kitten sitting on me…shit.
“um, I have to get off at this stop” I said.
“oh, well you wanna keep her?”
“no.”
“why not? She’s so cute!”
“no. I have to go to work”
“well im going to have to abandon her then I guess”
WHAT THE FUCK??? How does a random crazy person put something like that on me? Suddenly, I started thinking of those books where they depict different ways to kill a cat, and it hit me. When you read those books, and they show the stick figures or drawings of fake people, you start imagining this in a real life situation. That “crazy person” you see doing all of these acts, it was this woman.
But no, I have to go to my meeting. I can’t deal with this…fuck, I’m a cat killer…no. Wait, take a deep breath, calm down, there are worse ways to kill a cat. Relax.
After my meeting, I start heading to my favorite 24hr. Starbucks, when I see a man standing against a wall, writing something with his fingers. There were poems written in paint all over his trench coat, hair in dreads, boots painted, and writing something in thin air that could be a masterpiece for all I know. I actually stood by to watch him. I started eating my muffin, trying to depict what he was writing in the air. If I were to ever make a documentary, it would be about this guy. But dammit I could NOT tell what he was writing for the life of me. He wasn’t paying any attention to me, and it started to seem to me like he wasn’t actually writing anything at all, so I left.
Then it dawned on me. If it wasn’t even noon and I had ran into all of these people, I would suggest to take a look around you, and start thinking. Not just about yourself, but how we’re all connected in this world, yet come from totally different lives. Then it will hit you, and only then, can you really figure out what its like to live in the real world.