Friday, August 27, 2004

Southern accent

I was on my way to a dinner at a friend's place. It's quite close but it's too hot to walk and I don't want to arrive drenched at his place. So I go to the bus station. Two old black ladies are discussing, plastic groceries bags in front of them. They are sitting on the bus stop bench. I interrupt the conversation. "Excuse me, have you been waiting long?" I want to know if I'm going to have to wait five, ten or twenty minutes. The one with the large hat smile. "I ain't waiting for no bus". The accent is music to my ears. I would like nothing more than keeping her talking. I keep asking her questions on the different buses and realize that she is happy to grant me my wish of continuing to talk. "You have that bus that arrives over there. But that's not the one you want. We are just sitting here. Not waiting, just resting. It's too hot to be inside." I agree. She announces. "Your bus should be coming in shortly." It almost sounds like a decree. There is really nothing to argue about. It shall come to pass. A prophecy borne by long hours spent discussing with her silent friend, sitting at the bus stop when it's too hot outside


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