…is a line I’ve heard too many times before. But never at 6:45 in the morning when I’m barely trying to keep myself from falling into a coma, let alone think of a clever way to counter some uncalled for a.m. flirtage. That was until a couple of days ago when I was ran in a panic stricken daze to catch the 36, the first of 3 buses I had to take to work every morning. I was angry enough at this inconvenient transportational arrangment that social niceties were not something on the breakfast menu.
So anyway, it was a Thursday morning and like any Thursday morning, the coffee cup was half-full with the prospect of the upcoming weekend and half-empty because I had drunk half my coffee and still wasn’t too thrilled about having to face two more work days.
I was about to cross the major intersection that separated me from my bus stop. This was one of those mornings where my bus was making its way to the bus stop and I knew I wouldn’t be able to legally cross the road to get to it in time. So in an effort to not be late for another day at my dream job of ultrasounding feet and groins, I broke the law and jayran across the street to catch my bus.
The bus driver turned out to be an Indian man with a Santa Claus beard. If you have read my previous blog post ‘The New and Improved Boyfriend Screening Process’ (please read it if you haven’t), you will know that Santa Claus beards are one of the single most successful cockblocks of all time.
This is what ensued after I got on the bus:
Santa Claus Singh: “Oh! Now I know you can run!”
Karen: “What? oh..uhh…yes.”
Santa Claus Singh: “Are you going to work?”
I couldn’t tell him that I liked taking the bus at 6:30 in the morning just to engage in some tomfoolery with Santa Claus.
Karen: “Yes, I’m going to work.”
Santa Claus Singh: “What do you work as?”
Gone are the days when Santa Claus, the ever nosy busybody just wanted to know whether you were naughty or nice. Now he wants to know what you do for a living.
Karen: “I’m a kinesiologist.”
Santa Claus Singh: ‘A kiniosolist?’
Karen: “Exercise therapist”.
Quick Lesson: When someone cannot pronounce your profession, change it.
Santa Claus Singh: “Oh soo nice. You are like a therapist. A healer. You heal.”
What kind of imbecilic zero did we have here? I could tell that for Santa, ‘healer’ was just another word for good-looking woman who would not only tolerate a copious amount of quarter-life-crisis-inducing pickup lines, but would also think he was the catch of a lifetime. Oh goody.
Before I knew what was happening, Santa Claus pulled out his business card.
Santa Claus Singh: “I drive this bus by day, but this is my true passion in life”. He pointed at his passion on his business card.
Santa Claus Singh.
Santa Claus Singh looked expectantly at me. Expecting me to gawk in awe at his passion card I guess. I tried to cut the awkwardness with some light humor.
Karen: “Oh hahahaha…are you trying to sell me a house?”
Santa apparently didn’t think this was a good joke because I was the only one laughing.
Just then, by the mercy of Jesus, some other passengers who just got on had some questions about bus routes. I was blissfully relieved of this useless waste of time conversation. Sure, being on a bus is a waste of time to begin with. But talking to this man was a double waste of time since I could be spending this time staring at the floor dreaming of jam sandwiches and sandcastles.
My stop finally came around. Just as I was about to exit the bus, Special Mortgage Agent Santa claws his way into one final attempt at closing this deal with the healer.
Santa Claus Singh: “Wait! I want you to know one thing. I was NOT trying to sell you house. You understand?? NOT trying to sell you house!”
I nodded dumbly trying to get the hell out of the bus. But he continues on…
Santa Claus Singh: “I gave you my card because I want to be friends with you and know you. Will you call me? My number is on the card. Call me. Let’s be friends.”
Karen: “Okay. Bye.”
The problem is that there are way too many freaks who want to be my ‘friend’ and not enough crack to handle these friend requests. I have friends. Real friends. Real friends who know that at 6:30 in the morning, what you truly need is a non- fat latte and a gun. Not another friend.