Leprechaun on the Bus

The bus arrived, bringing with it rusted sides and holes speckled across the bottom, giving it the appearance of a used vehicle who had been used for target practice at the local firing range. I imagined it was one of the city's newer models. You could never let the exterior of a bus fool you in this city. With the constant spray of salt and slush it is surprising newer models last a year or two in this God forsaken city we call Pittsburgh. In order to see it's real age one must climb aboard and observe the seats. How many holes and smeared snot did the seats carry with them? This is how you determined it's real age. The inanimate objects who have been abandoned like babies in a basket by inconsiderate passengers, never to be given the opportunity to exit the folding bus doors. Was the snot hard and flaky or freshly smeared.

Waiting I grew nervous. I have never liked buses and I like to think the American education system has instilled this fear. Buses remind me of school. How many people have actually ridden a bus that has taken them anywhere fun? Not too many. Sometimes the schools will play with your mind and throw in an occasional field trip to lull the children into believing it is a fun experience but then, just as you begin to enjoy the thing, it sends you right back to school.

It no longer takes me to school. Now it is used to take me somewhere far more sinister. It takes me to work. Actually, it used to take me to work. It is now used only when I want to travel during the weekends, for I no longer possess the right to drive on weekends and I blame the government for this one.

I was headed into the city. Why did I need to travel into the city? I heard a local music store was the only place left in town to buy the new Back Street Boys CD. Now I am not gay but my friend Trainwreck is Bi-Curious so I wanted to surprise him with the new CD on St. Patrick's Day. Why St. Patrick's Day? Because we have decided only to party together on special occasions and holidays being we are a bad influence on each other. The next holiday in our lives is St. Patty's Day.

I climbed aboard the bus while trying to avoid eye contact with any of the other poor souls who have been forced into the world of public transportation. A public bus is the world's lost luggage. A suit case filled with items that have lost importance. Items valued by the world years ago but no longer. These items have been forgotten and replaced by new and improved members of society who travel in shiny expensive cars. I took my seat next to a used pair of socks.

A little man wearing a face which radiated sulk caught my attention. He was a little person. I started to become scared. I had just written of little people. Was God sending a little person to teach me a lesson? An angry little person? I do not think the man would have appeared so dangerous if he were smiling. He was not smiling. His eyes were watering as he stared out the bus window. His face was not directly visible to me, I was staring at his reflection in the window. Hopefully enough distance to keep him from noticing my obtrusive gaping.

He turned, allowing me to see a red beard attached to his minuscule visage. A red carpet which ate up the tears streaming down his pale skin. This little person is not mentally stable I thought to myself. I looked to the roof of the bus and lipped, "God please do not allow this to be my end. The story of a little, red-bearded man taking my life will not do well in the bars of eternity. I will be ridiculed by patrons who died in heroic acts such as saving children from burning buildings."

The little man turned, causing me to flinch into the best fetal position allowed by the cumbersome seats. A plastic bag fell into the aisle from the seat. This was my opportunity. I must retrieve this man's dry cleaning and return it safely in hopes of buying myself a free pass when the shooting spree began. I lunged while bouncing the old man seated directly in front of me forward as my body weight slammed into his seat. My hands were full of plastic seconds later. I reached across the aisle and set the bag down as if I were returning a bird egg to it's nest. I treated the laundry as if it were as fragile as the man's emotional state.

"Thank you. Tis mighty kind of you," he said. The man was timid. There wasn't the slightest hint of anger in his voice.

The bag resting on the seat contained what appeared to be a suit. A green suit. A suit which I could never where but might fit my 8 year old nephew perfect. A tiny hand patted the bag to assure it's possessions were not wrinkled from the fall. The man gave me an appreciative smile. I wondered whether or not this man of the public transportation world could use a little insight and advice from yours truly.

I began: "So what's the problem buddy?"

His eyes lifted, releasing the crow's feet from the corners of his eyes as if they had been released from the cement which held them in place for years. The leaky faucet in his eyes were shut off. His lip curled into what appeared to be a small smile.

"Tis me job. I have been let go," he explained.

My mind raced and I put two and two together. Either this man was a mascot for some twisted bank or he was dressing as a leprechaun. I would not judge this man because it was not my job to do so. Nobody ever said anything to me as a child for wearing super hero capes well past the permitted age.

"What type of work do you do?"

"I hide me gold at the end rainbows."

How could this be? I am broke and in need of money. I am more desperate than a man waiting outside the free health care clinic who is pissing fire. Has God not sent an angry little person but a wee little angel instead?

"Wow. Why are you down and out? If I had all that gold I would be drinking a Guinness in the pub as we speak," I explained.

"Tis these damn loan companies. People are no longer chasing me rainbows when they only need to call an 800 number and have money given to them instantly."

I asked: "Any company in particular?"

He grew angry and said: "Yes. National Pay Day. It appears they give anybody loans."

I recognized the company immediately. How could someone like me know of such a company? They approached me a while back to write up and add for their company and post it on my blog. I flat out refused because I did not want to appear as a sell-out. I may be broke but I still have my morals when it comes to advertising on my blog.

"Those bastards! Well what are you going to do since they are putting you out of business?"

He pulled a bit of the clothes from the bag and rubbed the cloth. He then pulled the hat from the bag. It looked like something a pilgrim would wear. A small wilted flower which had seen better days adorned the top. He placed it on his head and a small tear flowed down his cheek.

"Going back to Ireland."

I could not stand to see a Leprechaun down on his luck. It was his yearly celebration which brought me great joy and many more drinking stories. I needed to see to it this little man got back on his feet.

"Well what about calling up the Millsberry company and see about getting in with the Lucky Charms cereal outfit? I love that cereal. I don't see them going out of business anytime soon."

"Tis no use. I do not have a marketing degree."

"What about St. Patty's day celebrations?"

"You do not understand. I went to school and received a major in geography and minor in topography. I can't just jump into event planning. You are like everyone else. You stereotype we leprechauns."

I had offended the little fellow. I did not want to do so after the day he was having. I needed to right this wrong I had inflicted upon him.

"What do you say I take you back to my hometown. We drink more than most and I think we could fast track your event planning degree. We don't have much time. St. Patty's Day is right around the corner. I think we could get it done.

"Really? Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Let's just say I have a soft spot for people who enjoy drinking and are down on their luck."

He jumped across the seat and embraced me. I was not comfortable with this man on man affection so I eased him back into his seat. Maybe he would get a long with Trainwreck I thought.

"When do we start?" said the little fellow.

"As soon as we get back from buying a Back Street Boys CD for my friend."

"Lookie Lookie, someone has a girlfriend," he said.

"Not exactly. It's for a male friend."

His expression changed from playful to curious.

"Does he date other men."

"Maybe behind the scenes. None of us are quite sure as to whether or not he has made a 100% commitment to heterosexuality," I explained.

The bus rolled away as my little friend tried to hug me once again. Once again I pushed him into his seat.

I have plenty of work to do this weekend.