Drunks love David Sedaris, too.

I'm on the ride home and the bus is crowded. This always makes me nervous. When seating is plentiful, people will opt to sit by themselves. Some will even put their belongings in the seat next to them without guilt because there are plenty of other places for other riders to sit. Why? Because sitting next to a complete stranger is awkward. However, when the bus is crowded, it is an inevitability that you will end up sitting next to someone. I always hope for a dashingly handsome young professional to come sit next to me and ask me about the book I'm reading. However, money doesn't grow on trees and hot men never sit next to me on the bus. In fact, hot men don't ride my bus. Ever. Crazy people, do, though.

We pull over at a stop, and this man dressed in a ratty suit slovenly makes his way onto the bus. All I can think is, "Please oh please do not come sit next to me." He of course singles me out and makes his way to the empty seat beside me. I am reading a book, and I hope that he does NOT ask me about it. He, of course, does. His question is carried through the air by the stench of malt liquor, that hits me before his words do. I answer without looking up, hoping he will get the hint. He, of course, doesn't. He tells me how he loves to read and he thinks that people don't read enough anymore. I agree with an "mm-hmm" and continue to read. He then tells me he is sorry to bother me. I guess he got the hint.

Less than a minute later, he tells me that he just finished reading a book and is looking for a new one. He asks me who my favorite author is. I tell him that I have a few, but my favorite is David Sedaris.

Well, guess what? That just so happens to be his favorite author.

Of course.

He starts talking about how great a storyteller he is and how he has an amazing way of telling mundane, everyday happenings in such a funny way. I agree with him completely, but I try not to look too encouraging. He tells me which of Sedaris' books is his favorite. That particular one is not my favorite, but I love it just the same. He begins to recount a particular funny story in which Sedaris talks about his brother, the Rooster. I love this story and have read it several times. At around this point, it occurs to me that I am having a conversation about my favorite author with a man in a suit. Partial fantasy achieved. However, said man is clearly intoxicated, and upon closer inspection, is missing a couple teeth and is balding. Further proof that God has an amazing sense of humor.

After discussing the greatness of the Rooster, the man tells me that he loves listening to talk radio. He asks me if I ever listen to The Moth podcast. I listen to The Moth almost every day, and if you don't then you should (http://www.themoth.org/podcast). As he continues to tell me about his love of The Moth, I begin to realize that I have a lot in common with this drunk man. We both love David Sedaris. We both listen to The Moth. We both live on the east side and work downtown. His prattle drones on while I am having a bit of a mental crisis trying to figure out what all this means. Is the universe telling me to lower my standards in terms of men? Am I just as crazy as this dude? Is he going to sense the connection and ask me out on a date?? Shit.

Finally, the bus reaches my stop and I begin to gather my things. He tells me that it was great to talk to me. He does not ask me on a date (there IS a God), but instead simply says, "Keep it real." I laugh, wave, and can't help but be amazed at how ridiculously real it is.