The War Journal.......
Oct. 6th, 2001 11:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bjornwilde---------------Day One, Wednesday Oct 3-------------------------------------
Three hours of Public Transit. Three hours on five hours of sleep of public transit.
Three hours on five hours of sleep starting at 5:30 am of public transit.
Bus, Bus, BART, Bus, rinse, lather, repeat....
Stepping from the Union City BART, looking into the foggy morning sun, I searched for the place to be to get the 232 Bus. It would take me where I have never been. It would take me to a temporary weeks worth of cash and new things to do that don't include chemicals to complete.
My search is interrupted by a creepy horror...The Watchtower magazine...I prepare for my usual polite "No thank you." Ready to be firm, in No if need be, to run if such is needed. But as I notice the person behind the publication, true horror sinks in. Have you ever seen the folks? The old men and women who look as if they would be just as happy looking through every single book in a library looking for the word "Fuck"? The ones that typically sit at the CalTrain station with their table of Watchtower magazines? The ones that seem to be at all public transit hubs? Where you may not have something to read and too much time and too many thoughts in your head. Where you would be most likely to want something to read or distract yourself. I doubt many people have said, "I wish I know more about Jehovah's Witnesses." while riding on a train, bus or BART.
But I digress, I looked up at the person behind the magazine and I see the long blond hair and blue eyes of an attractive woman. She did have "White Bred Debutante" written all over her face, but she was still attractive . It was down right creepy. Behind me a BART train shrieks into the station as she asks me politely if I would like one and I say "No Thanks." She smiles and says, "I hope you have a good day." I could tell that she meant it. Anyway, I wish her the same and move on looking for my bus stop, relieved that I have a good poker face. Never let them see fear, it just makes them worse.
I find the stop for one of my buses and start waiting. While I am waiting I quickly discover that the creepy horror is not over.
As I stand there, smoking a cigarette and reading, I see her walking the same path as I just walked. She stops about twenty feet from me and starts talking to a attractive White Bred Blond with a bob haircut. As I go back to my reading, I realize something I saw. I do a double take and yes, I saw what I thought I saw. She had Watchtower's too.
While I am gaping and hiding it behind my book, two more join them, a White Bred woman with red hair and a White Bred guy in a nice suit. They all could not have been past 25. What's more, none of the others approached me. It was as if they had a hive mind, knew the first blond had already approached me and were being polite and not encroaching on me again.
At this point I am so enthralled in "I have to look" mode that the bus I had been waiting for startled me. I ask the bus driver if he went to Ardenwood and Kaiser and he pointed me across the parking lot to the bus I needed, which happened to be the other bus, the 258, I was to look for.
As I am crossing the parking lot, completely on the other side of the BART station, I see the White Breds walking to their car. I didn't see them handing out on magazine but they are talking and chatting as if they had had a successful time. They then drive off and leave me to my bus stop. Of course, they were driving a white car.
Day two to follow...
Three hours of Public Transit. Three hours on five hours of sleep of public transit.
Three hours on five hours of sleep starting at 5:30 am of public transit.
Bus, Bus, BART, Bus, rinse, lather, repeat....
Stepping from the Union City BART, looking into the foggy morning sun, I searched for the place to be to get the 232 Bus. It would take me where I have never been. It would take me to a temporary weeks worth of cash and new things to do that don't include chemicals to complete.
My search is interrupted by a creepy horror...The Watchtower magazine...I prepare for my usual polite "No thank you." Ready to be firm, in No if need be, to run if such is needed. But as I notice the person behind the publication, true horror sinks in. Have you ever seen the folks? The old men and women who look as if they would be just as happy looking through every single book in a library looking for the word "Fuck"? The ones that typically sit at the CalTrain station with their table of Watchtower magazines? The ones that seem to be at all public transit hubs? Where you may not have something to read and too much time and too many thoughts in your head. Where you would be most likely to want something to read or distract yourself. I doubt many people have said, "I wish I know more about Jehovah's Witnesses." while riding on a train, bus or BART.
But I digress, I looked up at the person behind the magazine and I see the long blond hair and blue eyes of an attractive woman. She did have "White Bred Debutante" written all over her face, but she was still attractive . It was down right creepy. Behind me a BART train shrieks into the station as she asks me politely if I would like one and I say "No Thanks." She smiles and says, "I hope you have a good day." I could tell that she meant it. Anyway, I wish her the same and move on looking for my bus stop, relieved that I have a good poker face. Never let them see fear, it just makes them worse.
I find the stop for one of my buses and start waiting. While I am waiting I quickly discover that the creepy horror is not over.
As I stand there, smoking a cigarette and reading, I see her walking the same path as I just walked. She stops about twenty feet from me and starts talking to a attractive White Bred Blond with a bob haircut. As I go back to my reading, I realize something I saw. I do a double take and yes, I saw what I thought I saw. She had Watchtower's too.
While I am gaping and hiding it behind my book, two more join them, a White Bred woman with red hair and a White Bred guy in a nice suit. They all could not have been past 25. What's more, none of the others approached me. It was as if they had a hive mind, knew the first blond had already approached me and were being polite and not encroaching on me again.
At this point I am so enthralled in "I have to look" mode that the bus I had been waiting for startled me. I ask the bus driver if he went to Ardenwood and Kaiser and he pointed me across the parking lot to the bus I needed, which happened to be the other bus, the 258, I was to look for.
As I am crossing the parking lot, completely on the other side of the BART station, I see the White Breds walking to their car. I didn't see them handing out on magazine but they are talking and chatting as if they had had a successful time. They then drive off and leave me to my bus stop. Of course, they were driving a white car.
Day two to follow...
