The Bus Stops Here

Things that happened at Rhode Island Ave. station last night:

-Saw a man in an artillery-style vest full of small vials of liquid. Kept thinking, “He could never take that on a plane! I should be concerned.” And yet I got on the bus anyway, which speaks poorly to my survival instincts. “I’m afraid of something! So now I’m going to enclose myself inside a bus with it!”
But at least now I know what “scents” are.

-Was approached by a crazy guy. He opened with, “I don’t know your name. And it doesn’t even matter now.”
I thought, well, this is it.
But then he just went on to tell me that I was the sexiest woman he’d seen all day. I was confident–and not afraid like all the other women.
Oh really, strange man? Women are afraid of you, you say?