Bus Story: Kyle
This morning I had a forty-minute convo with Kyle, a 30-something white guy from Seattle with a shaved head, aviator sunglasses, unruly mustache, and one brown tooth in an otherwise pleasant face. Watching me attempt to prop open my computer on my lap, he offered to swap seats with me so the sun didn't cast a glare on the screen.
As we chatted he mentioned that his girlfriend of three years broke up with him on Christmas Eve, and he was struggling to find work as a construction worker. As luck would have it, I am in need of help fixing my trellis so I started to think that maybe this was fate drawing us together.
Then something caused me to reconsider. Kyle kept talking.
Kyle apparently knows a lot about growing pot and immediately suggested that I use my organic garden to make a few extra bucks.
“There are companies that would set you up if you're interested,” he said. I replied that being a pot farmer would be a hilarious career pivot since I'm the straightest person on the planet and the last time I smoked anything my asthma almost killed me.
His answer? I should try an “ingestible.” I knew at the time that wasn’t the right word, but again, I’m not a pot aficionado so it wasn’t until later that I looked it up and discovered what he’d meant to say was edible. Kyle insisted I should really get on it before Phillip Morris gets into the game and pushes out the little guys. If I get some good seeds I can grow some premium and be ahead of the pack.
Kyle asked if he could quickly use my phone to call his ex. Something about the money she owed him. I handed it over, watching him closely just to make sure it made its way back to me when he was done. After he finished his call he went on to say Kyle himself is a “bastard whose dad is an asshole.” The two haven't seen each other in years. When Kyle’s girlfriend called Kyle’s dad for money, his asshole father laughed and sent Kyle a few hundred bucks, but nothing near what Kyle needed to help him get back on his feet. I think this was the money he was trying to pick up.
By this time my interest in this odd many quickly turned to concern. When I asked him where he was headed, Kyle said, "to meet a Jew about a job." At that point, I was more than ready for our chat to end.