Nathan B.Spooner
So there I am, riding
on the city bus with tear drop dark glasses, long flowing blond hair, loose
clothes, electric guitar in black case, on my way to a practice session.
At the bus stop on
Shattuck Avenue north just past Ashby, two beautiful young ladies get on and
walk by to sit behind me. Black kinky hair, bright wild African color clothes
and lookin’ soo good. Hey, I just have to turn my head to see what’s happening
and maybe say something.
Turn the head slowly
man, be cool. Just as I’m looking in their direction, the right lens of my
designer glasses pops out of the socket and lands on the seat beside me.
Oh yes, I make an
impressions alright. They burst out laughing so hard, hysterical almost. One of
them tries to muffle her laughter by placing her hand over her mouth but she
just couldn’t stop as the two of them don’t even try to hold back from the
spontaneous outrageous outlandish scene: this suave white guy, so in control
and so much on his game, completely loosing it with the lens popping out,
totally devastating the moment.
As a capsule in time,
as a Mel Brooks movie moment, the scene played out as if it were planned:
funny, absurd, slap-stick humor and just so real. All I could do was retrieve
the lens and get off at the next stop.
I can still see that
Berkeley bus going north on Shattuck with those two young ladies holding their
sides with laughter as they see me walking away.
Later I told my friend
Annie about it. She looked at me and said nothing but I did detect the faint
hint of a smirk, not a smile, just a slight curl on her lips.
When I related the
event to Esther, one of the ladies in our house on Fulton Street, she looked at
me the way you look at a puppy who had bitten it’s own tail.
So much for Nathan
being the happening guy