wrong and sick….

Saturday night, 32 years old, endorphins high from kicking-ass at boxing class, bouncing around and headbanging to a Nirvana concert on VH1. Sick and slightly wrong because I just ate a honeyed chevre salad with pecans–are you allowed to do that while watching Nirvana??? One thing–you shouldn’t head bang after combining chevre and balsamic. Puketastic.

Nirvana. Such a great time–I was just on the young edge so I never witnessed a concert but I did comeofage to a background of grunge.

We lived in a couple different houses on Orcas Island. One was around the corner from Doe Bay, close to where the road ends (at the time, not sure now, you couldn’t actually circumvent the island). We were the first bus stop on the bus route. This meant, after a long walk to the meet the bus, we would have about an hour bus ride to school. On lucky days our stepmom or dad would drive us and we got to wait in a warm truck. Most of the time, though, we walked and it was almost always dark.

I loved, LOVED, those bus rides. It was the fun part before school. We could sleep but most of the time we would goof off at the back of the bus. Back of the bus–a perk of being the first stop; choice seats.

One of the other early stops–two more after us– was in front of a lone trailer on the side of the road. This is where a classmate lived. She was kindof our friend–she was poor and not cool. I wasn’t cool either and I think we got ready for a couple dances together but I was so far behind–I didn’t have her edge. She also had an older brother who I thought was the coolest person I had ever seen.

He was much older. We were 6th grade, he was in highschool. We wore pastels childish styles–we had yet to break into our Rave (remember that store??) phase. He wore black with a black trench coat. He would saunter on the bus, hair gelled, ghetto blaster resting on his shoulder. Oh man he was so cool.

He would join us on the back of the bus and play Nirvana or Metallica all the way to school. Slouched back against the seat, he was quiet, not saying a word except a brief joke to his friend and occasionally taping his foot–almost an accident it was so nonchalant. If I was super lucky he would sit near me but we never shared a seat because we all had the whole bus to choose from. Still, it was 50 mins of humming along and peeking out at him. So cool. I loved Nirvana; I loved those bus rides.


One thought on “wrong and sick….

  1. not many get to live at the back end of forever and survive to write about it

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