Bus to Anaheim, p. 2

©1998, by Jeff Glovsky

<< Red, potent night in San Francisco!

...I need tea to calm me down. "Hey, let's go get a tea," I tell the whore.

She feels sorry for me. "Tea? You are not well?" she asks. I tell her what went down before. "Oh! So you do not want fuck, so?"

"I don’t think so, baby. Not tonight...Just want a cup of tea.”

"You're staying where?" she asks...and foolishly, I’m just about to tell her. But, "In Anaheim," I state with caution. "Friends..."

"Uh-huh...Where is your friends, so?"

"...I came up alone," I lie.

"You drove?"

"Drove? No, I took the bus."

We pop into a donut shop (too bright, and packed with living ghosts)...In Portuguese, she asks the old Korean if he's got some soup. He stares, and I pick sopa out to translate...Now he understands. He nods his head and
grins,  moronic.

"No," he says. "No soup," and grins again. Apologizes.

"I will take six donut holes. And beer...What kind of beer?" she asks.

"No beeeerr," the old man, foolishly.  Sad, shrugging, hurt voice full of pity...

"I will take a tree!" I blurt. The whore, stunned as the old Korean, asks where I learned Portuguese. "Here, there," say I. "A necktie, please! Have hungry...Thirsts incredible!"

We finish up our soft repast...a pair of teas, six donut holes...

"I have to pee," Elizabeth states.

"Here, Man! Man!" (at the old Korean)..."Have you got one toilet room?!" The Old Korean nods his head...

"I take you to the bus station," she tells me. "I make chi-chi there."

"You'll take...No! Why?" I ask, alarmed.

"I must to pee."

"I know, but...Don't you have a place nearby?"

She tells me someone's using it. "But why you don't have hotel here? We really must to go!”

"Wait...Wait! What time is it?" I ask. "Look, there's a doorway. I'll stand here..."

"I can't!" she's blushing modestly. "Why? Don't you want to leave?" she asks. "I cannot hold me anymore!"

She hails down a cab and we careen to Union Station.

My hotel is just around the corner..."Hold!" says she, and flies across the concourse to the ladies' room; she's given me her giant, tasteless purse to keep an eye on. "I am here!" she pokes her head back out to yell, then disappears again.

I'm standing in the draft of Union Station as the sun comes up...The Suits are pouring in already, solace crushing like a fog; a giant Dalí clock says ten to six, above a schedule board: toward LA every twenty minutes, starting at 5:45...and one direct to Anaheim, 6:20 (next one out, eleven).

Oh, the $$ she must have (...hotel is just around the corner)...Hold her bag out, heft it straight in front of me (My things are there...My wallet stolen...) (Room...is just around the corner...


I stumble toward the exit, backwards, eyes glued on the bathroom door...It stays shut, and I whirl and sprint and...

Bag stays in revolving door!

It nearly rips my arm off! I jerk back, I hit my head on the chrome frame, I howl in pain so a policeman smirks and thrusts his ennui'd thumbs into his gun belt.

...I am back inside.

The clock says five to six, as the far bathroom door swings open and Elizabeth emerges. She's all waving, lipsticked, full of smile...reeking breath from sperm deep-swallowed miles ago, and hours away...Runs over to me, asks what time my bus leaves. "Why you were outside?"

"I...lost my ticket! I don't have it anywhere...I thought maybe..."

"Eeee!" she says. "You lost your ticket!"

"Sím," I'm dumb. "I...guess...I lost it!"

"What time leaves your bus?" asks she.

Shrug. "I dunno..."

"Excuse me!? 'Scuse!" accosts a redcap...

"...Wait! Elizabeth!"

"Six-twenty! Almost late...,” she says. "You're sweet. Might like to be with you...You call to me?"

"Of course...I’ll call you."

"Here…My number...You must go!", scrawls...leads me by the groin to dock 15...Head-spins me, slicks my ear, and sticks me on the dizzy bus to Anaheim.

...It was last night?

Read Again

* * *

originally published (2002) in San Francisco Stories;

with images added (2012) on Jeff Glovsky (dot) com

To Natalie, who inspired the title and Patti, who inspired me ... and everyone else who appears in these stories and in me, in some way, to this very day ...

Underwear Woman Digs the Sea

(These Are Some Travel Stories!)

©1999-2013 by Jeff Glovsky.  All Rights Reserved.

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