Chronicles of the Wastelands: A passion for fashion


I scowled at her as she boarded the bus, mentally willing her to go upstairs, or at least as far away from me, as is humanly possible on a double decker bus. Of course she couldn’t hear my internal monologue. She was too busy roaring at her friend who she had on speakerphone. Ignorant as it may be to make the conversation audible to the rest of the bus, it wasn’t quite as bad as he own voice which had the timbre of a high pitched shriek. I have no doubt that my anti-social, early morning personality may have been informing my mood this morning, but this was a real endurance test. On what planet is it acceptable to force other people to listen to both sides of an inane babble about ITune purchases. Especially when your speaking voice resembles nails on a blackboard.

The look of gloom and despair was not unique to me. The poor misfortunes surrounding her (myself included) all looked utterly defeated. Almost as if she had broken our spirits. I guess the correct course of action would have been to ask her to buy earbuds rather than share her conversation. Nobody was willing to do that. Fear of confrontation maybe.

Luckily she disembarked at the stop outside the drug rehabilitation clinic.

Onto the bus at the same stop he boarded. The man with the flared white jeans, and beige cowboy boots. The only thing lacking from the ensemble was a 1980s soundtrack and a gold medallion. A fashion risk taker.

So brave. So very, very brave.

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