bus stop musings


7/17/10. wright stop plaza, downtown dayton. from behind me in the milling crowd dodging inconveniently placed digital screens promising things like the arrival of the 14 bus in 7 minutes in happy teals and rusty oranges: "there's a gap in his teeth you could drive a truck through. he's from chicago."

7/17/10. northwest hub, trotwood. half-slouched in a blue plastic bucket chair mounted in front of a plywood construction wall at the greyhound station, a woman in her early 20s. stringy black hair with a green streak, a handful of piercings, dark denim jacket, knee-length purple skirt and black leggings. sort of a goth look, but not trying all that self-consciously for any particular vibe. unaffected expression, not intricately contrived. tattoos dancing up her arms, one peeking out from above her tank top. big purple suitcase parked in front and mom sitting beside, looking a bit more country...unfashionable silver-rimmed glasses, frizzy blonde hair. they're on the way to visit grandma in kentucky, and the most important question is "I wonder if she'll like my zombie-woman [tattoo]."