On my way home from North Hills tonight, I overheard the craziest conversation to date.
There were two older gentleman behind me, one on each side. Suffice it to say, they look like they'd done some damage in their day. They were talking like they knew each other. A woman gets on and recognizes the guy on the other side. She used to drive for the City Kitty up until about four years ago. She also recognized the guy behind me. She says, "you don't know me? Why are you looking at me like you don't know who I am?" Honestly, my guess is that he doesn't remember getting on the bus, let alone who drove it four years ago. She says next, "You remember? You had that broken leg. I used to call you Crip. 'Hey, Crip! How you be?'" Nothin. (It was at this point when I looked at her and busted out laughing, to which she replied with laughter as well. Thankfully.) This carries on for a couple more minutes before Crip recounts the story of how he got the broken leg.
Once upon a time, he was stopped by the cops. With six crack rocks in his mouth. (Sweet jesus!) They tell him he's not going to be arrested, he just has to sit in the back of their car for a little bit. (Um...really?) Then he went on about talking to the cops. He was a little hard to understand. Something, something, something...the cops tried to help him...weird segue...he spent 12 days in jail...his leg was broken...something, something. Yeah. Six crack rocks. And he spent 12 days in the pokey. The Raleigh cops are awesome. As hard as he was to understand, it really did sound like he had been rehabilitated. And that really is awesome.
As I was getting off the bus, the woman was saying to him, "you'll always be Crip to me."