Before I delve into what I now revere as the legend of whom I can only refer to as “scary cowboy hat lady,” a little background as to how I have come to know her as I do. Currently I am working downtown Richmond, Virginia at Virginia Commonwealth University – an urban, mostly commuter university that has approximately 30,000 students enrolled. It is a widely diverse campus located amidst the city of Richmond - and I work in the middle of campus in the Student Commons building. I commute to work by car, bus and foot. My wife drops me off at the bus stop which is about a ten minute ride from our house – then I catch the #73 bus into downtown Richmond, and walk about a mile to my office. My overall morning and afternoon commute is about 45 minutes. The bus fare is $1.25 each way. When I started taking the bus, I bought bus tickets which gave me a discount that amounted to about 1 free round trip ride per week ($2.50). However, a few months ago they (the bus company) decided to phase out the bus ticket discount program, thereby screwing over many a loyal bus commuter (so much for rewarding those of us saving the environment right?) If you had purchased bus tickets before the phase out, then you were allowed to use them until the beginning of November – a good two months after the announcement was made. I had done this, but still had no where near enough tickets to last me until then. I was slightly annoyed and frustrated, but I would make do with the change. And so, we arrive to that fateful late summer day when I first met scary cowboy hat lady.
I was enjoying my ride home on the bus, quietly keeping to myself while reading. At a regular stop, onto the bus comes this mid-fifties African American lady, moving slow and mumbling to herself. She is wearing a white cowboy hat, has an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips and carrying a bag of some kind. She sits four seats in front of me in one of those that face the middle of the bus rather than forward. This allows for anyone sitting behind her to do some good, solid observing of her antics. My initial observation of her was that she had really white and scary looking eyes. The kind of eyes that make you shiver – I mean, I was really repulsed by this woman’s eyes – I don’t know how else to describe it. She was just scary looking. She was jabbering away about something and I noticed that the people across from her were not talking back – not even paying attention to her. Then she fumbled in her bag for a little while, mentioned something to the woman next to her and sat silently for the remainder of the trip, cigarette still dangling on her lips. My only thought was, “please don’t get off at the last stop with me – please no.…”
Sure enough, we get off at the last stop and the scary lady joins me. Just as I’m headed to the bench, she mumbles something audibly in my direction. All I heard was “bus tickets” – and this was enough to turn to see whom she was talking to. She was harassing another woman, and it sounded as though she was trying to sell her some bus tickets. My interest was now slightly piqued. Might this scary lady have something I desired? It was soon thereafter that her freaky eyes gazed upon me – as I was the only one remaining at the stop. She walked closer and kept mumbling, “you wanna buy some bus tickets?” Again, I was interested in the sales pitch, regardless of how shady and unkempt this woman was. If she had the now discontinued bus tickets that I could buy (they no longer sold them at the stores) and thereby save me from paying the regular fare for a few months – hey, I was willing to check into it.
So, she’s extending some tickets – I begin to go for my wallet and ask, “How much are you selling them for?” She pauses and begins to say a dollar a ticket – not much of a bargain, for that is what they are actually worth, but hey, I couldn’t get them anywhere else. For the record, I have never bought anything from a ticket scalper before, so this was new territory for me. So I have my wallet out in front of me, and I actually have some cash! It was meant to be. Just as I see the cash, I look up and see that the tickets she’s holding are not the discounted ticket books I desire – but tickets for disabled and senior citizen bus riders. These are twice the size of the tickets I normally use, so I am slightly embarrassed that I didn’t notice this sooner. I quickly put my wallet back in my pocket and tell her that I’m no longer interested. I head over to the opposite bench and sit down, half laughing to myself that she was trying to scalp senior citizen tickets to me, an obviously non-senior citizen. However, my laughter was brief, for now I knew that this woman had seen that I had money, and that it was only a matter of time before she put two and two together and came asking for some of it. Now, I am not completely opposed to giving money to street beggars and homeless people, but that is an entire different essay altogether, and not a road I want to venture down at this time. I do occasionally feel a heart tug to give some money to those who ask for it, but this was definitely not such an occasion with this woman. My beginning suspicions of her were only being justified the longer the time went on.
So, I began devising my own plan of action if – when – she came a knockin’. My ol’ trusted line – “Sorry, I don’t carry cash” was out, because I now was not only carrying it but she had seen it as I was about to give it to her. I could lie and tell her I needed it for something else, but I already felt guilty enough for almost buying the stupid tickets from her in the first place. Once again, just as I had predicted, it wasn’t three minutes after I had sat down and began planning my response that she dragged her old and creepy self over to me and was mumbling something about needing some money for mumble, mumble, mumble. By this time, I was standing – and she asked once again for some money to help her out. I had no where to turn, no lines prepared, no story to go on – I had be bold. “I’m not giving you any money.” No apology, no nonsense – just to the point and firm. I looked her in the eye to let her know I wasn’t budging – and, after no persuasion attempt, she left me alone. At least, she left me alone for a few more minutes until she returned to my bench area, and proceeded to dig through the garbage can in search of nothing in particular. She was obviously raising the ante so to speak, displaying her “desperation” and rooting through the trash to hopefully invoke a change of heart. I could only scoff – it was pure farce – but nonetheless, I was anxious to get the heck out of there. She then asked me if I had a light for her cigarette. “No, sorry – I don’t smoke. It’s bad for you,” was all I could think of. Maybe if she thought I was going to preach to her about health and the effects of smoking she would grow weary of me and thereby cut our ties. I knew this wasn’t the case, but I had tried anyway. My wife arrived before our interaction went further, but I had the sinking feeling that this wouldn’t be the last of my encounters with scary cowboy hat lady. Indeed it wasn’t for the next encounter was even more awkward and unusual.
To be continued….
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