On the way to school they were paving a road and I said "Oh, that stinks." Ules says "That's the stench of the horror of what some people call progress." He does not mince words. But don't tell him I told you what he said! He hates it when I quote him.
Another bus story. The other night a man was passed out in the front seats of the bus. Everyone was ignoring him-- I thought he might be dead. I went up to the driver and said "That guy all right? He doesn't look so good."
"Yeah, we're takin' him off at the next stop," he says.
So at Broadway and Main three burly men with black gloves lumber out of a van and try to wake the guy out, but he is so passed out he can't. Two men pick him up as dead weight, drag him out of the bus and put him on a bench. I hope they called the ambulance. Then the third guy sprays the seat liberally with disinfectant because the man they removed was "unclean." "Kind of like I was in the eighties," he quips. So the next time you sit on a seat on a bus, just think of the layers of chemistry burbling beneath your butt. Ick.
Oh, and they are discovering live and dead bed bugs between the pages of books in Burnaby and New West libraries. Charming.
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