Cherry St. Bus Station – Avoid At All Costs…

So this update is rather delayed as I have already moved home to the Middleofnowhere, VT (kill me.) However, during my last week in lovely Burlington after a particularly rough 8 hour shift I decided to hop a bus up the hill and save my feet some agony. I of course settled down on one of the questionably “clean” benches at the Cherry St. bus station to wait my total of 10 minutes before the bus arrived. I kept my fingers crossed in hopes that nothing completely horrifying would happen. No such luck.

No more than a minute passes and this creeper, who looks like he crawled out of a sewer drain in a Stephen King novel, comes around the corner and approaches the 13 year old girl next to me. He wants to use her cell and opens with this classically outrageous line, “Miss I desperately need to use your cell phone. Please it’s an emergency. I’m a casting director for an this new top-secret movie and I can’t find my cell phone to call the important actor who I am supposed to be meeting.”

Outrageous! This dude definitely hasn’t showered in a few weeks and is carrying a cologne of binge drinking that rivals most college students on a saturday morning … casting director for sure! Little Miss Emo and her five pounds of eyeliner next to me isn’t buying it. After about three full minutes of haggling Mr. Casting Director gives up and leaves. This is when the real fun starts.

Emotastic turns to me and goes, “God! I thought that guy was never going to leave me alone!” A surprisingly normal statement which lured me. After chatting a small bit about the absurdity of his line, she then whips out a box cutter, pops it open and states, “If that cracked out douche didn’t leave me alone I was gonna have to cut his ass.” Direct quote, I swear. Cue awkward faltering on my part. I instantly try to end our delightful conversation and shift slightly to the left in hopes she will get her “weapon” out of my zone.


She seems to get the point that I am not going to whip out my box cutter and discuss practical and efficient methods for cutting local bitches and she tunes into her iPod. However, in under a minute yet another less than desirable Cherry St. dweller happens upon us. This one is holding her child upside down and stops to ask the both of us an extremely important question. She exclaims, “SINCE WHEN DOES THAT DAMN DRIVER NOT STOP AT KING STREET?! HE DON’T KNOW WHERE HIS DAMN ROUTE IS! MORON!” I just sit there and curtly nod my head in agreement thinking, “Yes, you are totally right, he is such a moron. Now please do not drop your child on or around me.” Miss Emo Tween next to me is not having it though and out comes the box cutter followed by the words, “Bitch! Does it look like I care about your baby mama problems?” A total of five solid seconds of silence follows. Realizing that someone may potentially cut a bitch, I decided to vacate that sitch ASAP. I literally leap onto the bus in front of me not caring whatsoever where I wind up and in the end I have to walk double the distance home.

Lesson learned, Avoid that bus stop at ALL costs.