MINOR DEITIES AND PUBLIC TRANSIT: WARNING, CONTAINS NUTS

I thought it said 'cheese', but it tasted like grape. Fake grape. There was also strawberry. Both of these are among the easiest artificial flavours. There was also a bag that said "tropical mix", but that's nearly half banana, which I am somewhat allergic to. Bananas make me itch.

For a true sense of discomfort on public transportation, sit next to someone who is constantly scratching.


There are quite a number of things that hypersensitize the dermis, but fortunately most of them can be avoided, including scratching men on the bus. Walking is not any safer, however. The loony who worshipped my shadow in Hang Ah Alley took off his shirt, and but for deft footwork on my part would have fondly touched me.

I am not ready to be stroked by a naked man.

Not in public, not now, not ever.


If it had been a pretty young lady of impeccable sanity and good taste, temporarily drunk on my awesomeness, it would have been a different story. I would have put my coat around her naked torso, and told her "here, wear this, you must be freezing, we'll talk later". Within minutes she would have come back down to earth and wondered what the heck came over her.
With a bit of luck, nobody else would have seen anything.
And who is this strangely intoxicating old coot?

That has not happened yet, and maybe will not ever, but I'm just mentioning it as something infinitely more appealing public disrobing-wise than the unclean crazy person who was there.

He got on the bus before I did.

I waited for the next one.

Some risks, um, no.

No bananas.




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