Bus Ride

Once in SF I was ridding the 16 Mission bus at a very late hour. I was very drunk from partying with my gays and had to force myself to stay awake for the hour long ride in the sketchiest part of town. The bus at that hour was full of sordid characters. Bummies, trannies, hookers and drunk migrant workers. But they always kept to them selves. At one point a couple of crack heads got on. I do not exaggerate when I say crack heads. Two black girls wearing pajamas and over sized tshirts and unfinished corn rows. One tall lanky guy held a pillow and the other a fat bull of a woman held a bottle of Jack Daniels. I think they might have not been wearing any shoes either. Crack heads always lose their shoes! When the absent minded bus driver finally took notice of these ladies he immediately stopped the bus. For some strange reason he had an issue with these fine upstanding commuters. He polite asked them to discard the bottle of JD. That’s when things got ugly. Normally I try to stay in the shadows and I am usually the only fag on these late night bus rides. And crack heads love picking on fags. But I was drunk. Very drunk. The crack heads of course refused to part with their beloved JD and the bus was not going anywhere. As we waited some of the commuters became impatient, including me. And when drunks get impatient they get loud. The trannies started to yell at the crack heads, the bummies started to yell at the crack heads. Even some of the other crack heads chimed in. Then I joined in on the fun. “Get off the fucking bus so we can all go home!” Oh oh. Why did I do that, I though to myself. As soon as those words left my mouth I knew that was in for. Gay voices carry. Drunk Gay voices carry even louder. As I tried to make myself smaller by slinking in my seat the meaner of the two crack heads came after me. Stomping down the isle of the bus she came right to me. “What did you say faggot?” She actually said it. She, the barefoot crack head holding an open bottle of Jack Daniels was calling me a Faggot! “Shut the fuck up before I kick your Faggot ass!” she yelled. Holy shit I thought, this is gonna get ugly. And of course no one else on the bus was going to stand up to her, not the bus driver, not the bummies and not even my sisters.. the trannies. Before I had time to react I got socked in the face. Now, you might assume that because I am a fag I wont defend myself.. right? Wrong. I got all kinds of nasty. It suddenly turned into an Indian Jones movie. I was Indy, she was some voodoo witch doctor and I was going to get her fat ass off the bus! I grabbed on the the metal strap hanger and hoisted myself up, kicked my legs out and knocked her down on her ass. It was amazing. With the booze flowing through my veins I was unstoppable. I jumped to my feet and pushed her towards the back exit. As punches flew at me I quickly pushed her fat and smelly ass through the rubber doors and onto the street. I could hear cheers from the sordid bus riders. I managed to run back into the bus only to find out that we were not going anywhere. It turned out that the bus driver had called the police when I got punched instead of physically helping me. We now had to wait for them to arrive. What a waste of effort I though. A few minutes later I saw the flashing lights. The bus driver escorted me out to the curb and then quickly drove off. To my surprise the cops were very cordial. They insisted that we find the crack head that punched me. See in SF they have hate crime laws that kinda protect people like me. Sometimes. This is something that the obviously lezzie cop informed me of. I sat in the back seat as we drove around the block to find my barefoot friend. When we finally found her a few minutes later hiding behind some bushes the cops shinned a light on her and asked me, “is that the fat bitch that punched you?” Yes, yes, hate crime hate crime I shouted. My lezzie copper took this event to heart and was not o nice to the poor crack head. It was amazing seeing her get carted off to the joint. I felt like Milderd Pierce. I even got a ride home, shaving about forty minutes off my commute. Thank god for the SFPD and their many lezzie coppers.