I deviated from my normal bus route and took a dive into a seedy part of town to do an interview for class. Many of you already know that I am Dysnavic: a word I invented to describe my complete and utter lack of ability to navigate my way out of a paper bag. To accommodate for my disability, I brought several hard-copies of my route, an iPod with photographs of the map, and had memorized every square inch of it. There was no way I would get lost.
As I approached the bus stop, a chunky old man missing most of his front teeth greeted me, invited me to sit in the 3 inches remaining next to him on the bench, and asked me where I was going.
“I’m taking the 11 down to Cedar Bluff.”
He looked at me like I was on crack. “What business do you have down in Cedar Bluff?”
“I’ve got an appointment at the BCDG.”
At this point, I realized that this was not a conversation I had meant to get myself into. Sharing details about public transportation destinations with strangers is not always the safest idea. I needed to send anti-social vibes quickly. “I have no idea.”
“What are you going to do there?”
“I don’t know.”
Though these answers seemed pretty deflective to me, they didn’t phase him one bit.