Ode to the Bus

I love the bus.
I really do-as inconvenient, smelly, long, and uncomfortable as it can be. Confined together for an hour plus, some chemical reaction occurs between the people-true colors eeke out, somehow.

There's a 14-year-old girl announcing that she's running away to the mall; a man spouting a fountain of swear words that as far as we know are still hovering in space over Lake Michigan today; a couple discussing politics at the top of their lungs, determined to start a revolution beginning with the patrons of UTA; bus drivers who read at stop lights; countless senior citizens taking advantage of retirement and the discount; and my personal favorite: Trouble-Maker-Gum-Coveter-Dred Locks Man.
So it's another day-I'm riding to work, chillin. Just doin a little espanol, studying up. Said man sits next to me and unabashadly peers over my shoulder the entire way. When I pop a piece of Sangria Fresca into my mouth his mouth is visibly watering (no exaggeration.) I offer him a piece of gum, which apparently was his cue to strike up arguably the weirdest conversation in UTA history:
Trouble-Maker-Gum-Coveter-Dred Locks Man: "So, you speak Spanish?"
Me: "Oh, a little. I'm just learning."
TMGCDLM: "You go to BYU?"
Me: "Mmmhmm."
TMGCDLM: "Ah, I went there. But they didn't like my dreds so I had ta leave. But then apostles came to my house, I bet BYU wants me back now."
Me: "Why did apostles come to your house?"
TMGCDLM then pulls out a notebook and tells me to read the first page. This thing is full of diagrams and 'prophesies' of when the world is going to end, commandments we should put in place, I don't even know what else. I hand the notebook back to him, not a clue as to what I could say.
TMGCDLM: "Yeah, so they were interested in my prophesies, so they didn't really care 'bout mah dreds too much. I'm just a trouble maker, I guess! My hair is just the beginning."

I love the bus.