Tonight, the bus home smelt of weed.
Not the smell of someone who had weed, but of weed.
I know this because a) the bus smelt of weed; and b) two girls got on and said “This bus fucking smells of weed. Someone on this bus has got weed. It fucking smells of weed.” So that pretty much cleared that up.
That was made a lot more fun by the fact that they were actually sitting next to the person on the bus who had the weed. And things because a little bit awkward for a while.
When I was at Uni, I was once in a computer lab. I was doing important work, I’m sure, and not just nobbing about on the internet chat rooms of old. Ok, I was just nobbing around on the internet chat rooms of old. Chat rooms which, incidentally, were all shut down shortly after two kids who used the chat rooms went on a murderous rampage in Columbine. They didn’t use our chat room, mind, because my friend Justin would have tried to chat them up…
So, I was in the computer lab and had the privilege of watching a man cutting the heads off pictures of female celebrities and gluing them onto naked bodies as though, somehow, that was then a picture of the celebrity in question naked and therefore marvelous to crack off some knuckle children to.
Being immensely cool – we were hanging out in the computer lab, after all – we drew attention to this man very loudly. Pointing out that what he was doing was quite sad, while continuing to chat with people we’d never met and typing things like *smile* and *sad face* because it was so long ago emoticons hadn’t even been invented! I know. Imagine that. *winky face*
We did this for quite some time, until it – like the smell of weed – became awkward and the man mountain who was putting his best Photoshop skills to the test air-brushing the join out of the newly naked Gillian Anderson’s neck started to get a bit stroppy. And he threw his bag over his shoulder, shut down his porn empire and stormed off, throwing some barb back at us about how we were quite sad as well sitting inside on a sunny day chatting on the internet to people in Canada about something-or-other.
And it was a bit like that with the weed on the bus, except that on a bus you can’t really storm off unless you are a) at your stop or b) are confident another bus is coming.
So instead, the weed man sat there, exuding the smell of weed, while the two girls continued to comment on the smell of weed. And it all got more and more awkward until, in a moment of throat-closing genius, the smell of weed was removed from the bus by an over-powering smell of lady spray (which I believe is the technical term for it).
I wanted to say something about that.
But I thought it might get awkward…