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I’ve got problems and more gloves

Sometimes I like to ride the transit bus. It gives me some down time, time to evaluate myself and my problems. I’ve got problems and riding the bus gives me time to try to find, and ask for, solutions. I rarely talk to the other bus people but sometimes someone wants to tell a story, so I allow them if the story is interesting enough. After all, in the end its all about the stories.

As I walk across the snowy median on my way to the bus stop I see that i’ll be sharing the wait with a guy with problems. He’s wearing two hooded sweatshirts, the hoods tightly sinched around his skinny withering face, tired Levis, even more tired Reeboks. He’s doing that jump thing you do when you are cold. We exchange greetings like good people do when they are sharing a bus stop kiosk during a snowstorm, during the Holiday season.

“Hello,” I say.

“Hi… Its cold, huh.”

“Its Wintertime in Colorado.”

“No Shit! I spent the day shoveling snow for Labor Ready. I made $28.”

He seems happy about this statement. He’s happy to have earned $28 from the rent-a-drunk day labor place a few blocks away. I ask a sideways question. “You worked all day and made $28?”

“No, I started around noon.”

He blows into his hands and does the jumping thing again.

“WHere are your gloves?” I ask.

“I don’t have any, they were stolen.” He goes on about how all of his warm clothes got stolen, Carrhardts… on and on he goes… He has problems… I look at his bare hands again, then I look at my hands. I see suede and what I think might be called Flock. I don’t know, its fuzzy red shit that lines cheap suede gloves. I think for a second about how i’ve got lots of other gloves waiting at home.

“Here you are man. You need these more that I do.” I say as I hand him my stupid cheap suede and red flock lined gloves.

He puts the left on on first and exclaimes from underneath two cotton sweatshirt hoods, “They are WARM!” before his hand gets all the way in. He extends his still bare right hand for a shake and says. “Thank you. My name is Jim.” His hand is indeed cold.

If Jim decides to go back to Ready Labor tomorrow to earn another $28 shoveling snow; $28 that he obviously needs to help solve his problems, he’ll at least have some gloves to wear. He will have one less problem.

Sometimes I like to ride the transit bus.

A bus tale from Colorado Springs, that hopefully contains at least one misspelling or gramatical error. This is done on purpose, to confuse and/or anger Satan.

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