Go Greyhound, and leave the drugs to us
Editor’s Note: Recession got you down? Final projects weighing on your sanity? Take a break with this (almost) completely fabricated story!
“Hey man, you want a couple Xanies?”
I did not, but I almost wanted to say yes to find out if he really had them. Turns out, this guy was out of jail less than 24 hours, and somehow he already had his hands on Xanax. If only the people putting criminals in jail worked as fast as the people who get them in trouble in the first place.
I was on Greyhound, having just visited my girlfriend in Pittsburgh. My companion, let’s call him Kitzenstrudel, apparently was on Xanies, and leaving his girlfriends at Albion State Prison after a stint of 5 to 10.
You wouldn’t have known looking at him that he was an ex-convict. Of course, if you walked around behind him, and saw the oversized “Department of Corrections” stamped on his shirt, that might give you a clue.
Either way, I was stuck next to him for 7 hours. I wasn’t scared, though. Other than his frozen scowl, scar across his left eye, and trail of tattooed tears down his face, Kitzenstrudel was the epitome of friendly.
Needless to say, I sat close to the window, and slept with one eye peeled. To be honest, I sat halfway out the window, and didn’t blink once (the wind made my eyes a tad dry, but the drool from the baby sleeping on his mother’s shoulder two seats up kept a little moisture in them).
Still, Kitzy really was friendly enough. He was always looking to make sure his fellow passengers didn’t miss any opportunities. In fact, until I felt the shank in my ribs, I didn’t realize just what an opportunity it would be to give him my wallet.
After a while, it was a little difficult to relate. I told Kitzenstrudel about my friend getting so high on weed on his birthday he ended up curling around a chair for four hours, while he told me about his friend getting so high on crack cocaine he ended up, well, dead. The mood was brought down just a tad.
It was also a little hard to understand his accent. I thought he was referencing the Scripps Howard News Service for three hours, until I realized he was really talking about “the strippers that Howard knew that served us.” No wonder he responded so enthusiastically when I said there’s no better way to start your morning than Scripps.
Despite the lengthy ride, I never grew bored with him. I really didn’t find a lot of spare time between improving my Crip walk, staunching the flow of blood from my shank wound, and wiping baby drool into my eyes.
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