or “What I experienced on my most memorable urban adventure last week.”

Return the vulgar gesture.

A hippie man with reddish brown ponytail and glasses sits directly behind me.

A young black man in a red sweater passes to the rear door.  With a grunt, he shoves past the hippie man.

“The word is excuse me, not move,” says the hippie.

Which is two words, I first thought.

And yes, how absolutely rude, was my 2nd.

And 3rd, looking briefly at his swagger & gait of the young black man, the sound of his diction suggested an impediment of mind, and/or speech.

Return the vulgar gesture.

A white man enters, elderly, wearing sunglasses and laden with a backpack, computer case and sports bag, all stuffed to the gills.

His bags sway and whack the seat poles as he makes his way to a seat on the back of the bus.

A few stops later, a woman sitting at the window seat across the aisle stands up to pass through to the exit. She tries to get by the alert, articulate gentleman holding a paper packet in his hand.

The elderly man laden with bags stands up to get off at the same time but pauses in the middle of the aisle.

The alert, articulate young lawyer type says, “This woman is trying to get out.”

“Who’s trying to get out?” he asked in a very serious query.

“This woman right next to me.  Could you please move faster?”

He’s still on pause, but eventually moves to get off just a stop before Alvarado.

What a bizarre sequence, led by these pirates of personal space.  What a surprise to need a referee at 8AM.