My 16th birthday remains my favorite birthday by far. No, I wasn't one of those spoiled girls with a giant birthday bash costing more than a wedding or a small house. In fact I would hate being at one of those parties let alone be the center of one. Too many people. My 16th birthday was my favorite because my parents took my sister and I along with two friends to New York City for a weekend. One of my dad's friends had a house in New Jersey at the time so we all stayed with him and caught the train into the city every day. The best part of the trip was being in the car with my friends. Throughout the eight hour drive we passed the time by making up stories about the people we passed.
Fast forward to this past week and I found myself bored on the long bus ride home, stuck in rush hour traffic in Brisbane. In my boredom I found myself making up stories for the people around me. One particular guy was especially interesting probably due to the tattoos all over his body. Here is a snippet of a story/description I made up for him.
There is a boy on the Brisbane 345 bus, no not a boy but not a man either. He's at the in between where he's trying to be a man but not quite fitting the mold yet. Tattoos crawl across his body and gages stretch his earlobes twice their original size. His body is an echasketch of rebellion. He doesn't like rules, even though he knows they're in place for a reason. Across his knuckles "live free" is scrawled in old type print and I can't help but think to myself, 'maybe he should visit New Hampshire'.
There it is. A little taste of my bus ride. I'm sure this will not be the last time I will make up these stories. I think their good writing exercises and it passes the time during a long commute alone. Maybe I will make this a thing. Who knows. It was definitely fun.
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