The Russians used a pencil (gomezticator) wrote in piss_and_funk,
The Russians used a pencil

Crying without end

So Friday night I'm catching the 522 in Seattle to Lake City to go home. I get on at the last stop on 5th and Pike with several other people, including this quiet Dave Chappelle look-alike in a black hoodie.

I took a window seat near the back of the bus. As we're closing in on I-5 I hear some sniffling, and then what sounds like laughing. I should say crying, but it sounded more like laughing than crying; the only thing that indicated it was crying was the sniffling that came with it.

I don't want to turn around and stare but I look through the reflection in my window and indeed, it's the DC lookalike sobbing alone in his seat. Now, I'm sure someone on the bus cries over something every so often, so this alone isn't a big deal.

But usually the crying happens for a little bit, maybe 5 minutes, and then the person calms down. But this guy's crying kept going and going, and then it got louder. Crying became wailing cries of, "WHYYYYY GOD WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" Everyone else on the bus, just as unwilling to look as I was, started getting real uncomfortable. My stop was the very first stop after the 7 mile ride down I-5 and Lake City Way, a 25 minute commute, but this bus was going all the way to Woodinville, another 7-8 miles down the road, and I saw this guy pay a 2-zone fare, so he was in for the haul.

And a scary thing: while waiting at 5th and Pike this guy gave NO indication that he was upset or crestfallen. It led me to sordidly wonder throughout the ride if this was all an act, or a symptom of mental illness.

His wailing quickly escalated into Kabuki Exposition Theatre. WHY GOD WHY YOU GOTTA KEEP TAKIN PEOPLE FROM ME WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! He wouldn't look up and yes, it occured to me early on that maybe somebody oughtta throw the guy a kleenex at least, but the sheer rising, almost volcanic intensity of his crying had to dissuade even the kindest soul on the bus from even thinking about it.

He calmed down, head buried on his hoodie sleeves against the back door exit rail by the time we reached my stop... or so I thought: as I stepped off and the doors shut, another pained wail came from the back of the bus.

I'm glad I don't live in the suburbs.
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