It has been quiet on the evening 13.  (Well, not last night when that young mom kept bitching at her 2 year old to, "Sit down.  You better learn to be patient.  I said NO!!!!  MIKEY!!!!!!") There has been no more, "Oh!  Hello, my friend!", since Cambodian Guy finally made the decision to leave RI.  He held on for as long as he could, trying to give his tax/insurance company a go.  His long term plan was to hang in here so that he could make enough money to get back to Cambodia.  His harrowing escape from that country in the early 90's had been filled with the promise of what it must be like to live in America: the land of plenty where dreams come true.  In the end, his dreams were unfulfilled.  He lived each day in bitter disappointment and poverty.  So he rode the bus to and fro each day and only found enjoyment in talking with those of us who rode the bus with him.  He recently discovered pleasure and relief in that preacher guy who does his thing at Kennedy Plaza.  Cambodian Guy was always so eager to talk about what he had heard, but no one wanted to listen.  Including me.  He had been searching the Internet for jobs in other parts of the country: Alaska, Colorado, California; embassy jobs in Cambodia.  He always came up empty.  Then he learned that his ex-sister in law lives in Minnesota.  He searched for jobs and still came up empty.  His disappointment sometimes made him seem despondent.  He could only dream of going back to Cambodia to find a "pretty girl" he could live the rest of his years out with, in happiness and plenty(one can hire a maid for 40 bucks a month in Cambodia!).  I got on the bus 2 weeks ago only to find out that the day before had been Cambodian Guy's last journey on the 13.  He finally made the decision to leave RI for Minnesota even though he was not sure of a job nor a place to stay with his ex relative.  Tom told me that he had tears in his eyes when he told of leaving; he wanted Tom to be sure to tell me he had said goodbye.  I remembered the times I just wanted to spend my bus ride in quiet and so put my headphones on even though I knew Cambodian Guy wanted company....  I miss him.  I hope that he finds what he is looking for: a good job, a home, companionship; a ticket back to Cambodia.  It is what we all deserve in this life: a little bit of happiness.

Olfactory Overload would describe today's bus ride both in and out of Prov.  Good Lord, people!  This AM the smells consisted of body odor, ancient Avon roller ball perfume, cheap cologne, and just plain FUNK.  I found myself wondering about a person's personal awareness of how they smell to others....  Believe me, I know immediately when my organic deodorant has worn off.  I try to minimize movement so as to minimize The Waft Factor.  Ok, I realize that there are those less fortunate who cannot even afford deodorant or do not have access to a shower on a daily basis.  But the perfume/cologne?  Believe it or not, not everyone is as delighted by that scent as you are.  Please go easy when applying.

This evening the overwhelming odor was mixed....  Liquor and vomit.  Not a pleasant scent.  I actually thought it was coming from the dusty guy in front of me, but when I was able to change seats I saw the guy who was sitting...  Well, slumped, in the seat behind me.  It was coming from him.  I had to pull that bag of coffee I bought this AM outta my bag and hold it under my nose.  It did the trick!  Tom and I began a discussion about Bus Smells and his trick is to rub Vicks under his nose so he can make it to his destination without retching.  Good to know.

As we wound our way into West Warwick, a woman in the front of the bus who had been glancing back at Slumped Guy, got up and slipped into the seat I had vacated.  She reached back and jiggled Slumped Guy.  "Hey.  Hey.  HEY!  Wake up, Sleeping Beauty."  Slumped Guy stirred and grunted.  "We are probably near your destination," she said.  He looked up.  "Are we at the Sam store?", he mumbled.  "Almost", she answered.  He slumped once more.  Soon she reached up and pulled the cord.  We were at the Sam store and she jiggled him once more.  "We are here," she said.  Slumped Guy shifted and looked up.  "Is this my stop?", he slurred.  "You said it was," she answered brightly and he thanked her.  "No worries", she said.  I thought, how kind.  How kind she was in comparison to me.  I was just thinking I should move again so that he wouldn't blow gears all over me.

So, I felt ashamed.  I wanted to be as kind.  There was a young couple with many bags at the front of the bus; they looked tired and like they had not had a shower in awhile.  Bert was telling them that he could drop them at the Cumby's in Coventry, but they would have to walk to the Super 8; a walk of at least 2 miles in the cold and dark.  I approached them and offered them a ride.  Come to find out, the girl is pregnant and feeling unwell.  They were delighted and accepted my offer.  John and Ariel.  Two young kids with another kid on the way.  I felt better, but was reminded.  Kindness is what
matters.  No matter how smelly.

When I first started taking the bus, I was in a state of semi panic.  How could I figure out the schedule?  Where ARE all of the stops?  DOES the bus ACTUALLY stop EIGHTY ONE times on the way to Prov?  What do I do if I miss the bus?  Well, this blogging thing is similar to that state of semi panic.  Why can I never remember my password?  ow do I get back to the damn blog to begin with?  Ah, but here I am.  I made it here this morning....  When I actually should be packing up so I can make it to the 9:04.

I am seriously hoping that Elderly Poodle Lady does not sit next to me again this AM.  I really felt awkward the other day when she whipped Fifty Shades Freed outta her Price Rite bag.  Come to think of it, the poodle looked embarrassed, too.