Adam Wade

I hit the same bus every morning, Monday to Friday. It comes at 7:03am. It doesn't matter whether I am running late, or ahead of my morning schedule. One thing is certain. I never miss this particular bus. I will sprint like my life depends on it. I will chase the bus two blocks to the next stop. I need to be on this bus.

Now before you think I am crazy, let me tell you why.

There’s a girl in her mid-twenties on the bus, not just any girl, THE GIRL. I am 28 years old and this rarely happens anymore. I get flustered like I'm 13 when I see her. She gets on the bus four stops after me. She usually has an ‘everything bagel’ with a ton of cream cheese (and she kinda makes a mess when she eats it). And she has this sack that she carries stuff in. One of the things in her sack that caught my eye was a small case for what seems to hold an instrument – a flute or a clarinet perhaps. She looks like a cross between Drew Barrymore and Ms. Beven (my 8th grade English teacher).

I went a long time without trying to talk to her, because I don’t know how in the world to talk to a girl on the bus and not look like a creep. I have seen guys make real jerks of themselves on the bus, being all cheesy (even though many times it works out for them). I just can’t see myself convincingly saying something like, "Boy, this bus is soooo slow, it’s like a turtle. How about grabbing a drink with me Friday night?"

One day I was sitting in the front section of the bus and she got on and sat across from me. I got very timid and tried not to look directly at her. I would sneak little glances at her though, and then quickly stare up at the bus advertisements above her.

The bus was so warm. I sort of dozed off for a moment and was in an ‘early morning trance-like state.’ I was sort of dreaming, sort of awake. I opened my eyes and saw her there across from me and noticed her smiling right at me as she ate her bagel (I don't think she had a napkin that day. She had a couple of little patches of cream cheese on her left cheek). I smiled back. I felt buzzed a bit. I looked down and noticed a little silver ring on her finger (on the left hand where the wedding ring goes).

"Are you engaged?" I mumbled loudly looking right at her. I heard a few people giggling on the bus.

It was then when I realized I wasn’t dreaming, and I had 'really' just asked her this question. She gave me a big smile, I tried to smile back, but felt shocked and embarrassed... I didn’t look at her the rest of the ride.

The next day she got on the bus and I noticed by the VERY 'convenient' way she held her sack, that she wasn’t wearing a ring on any of her fingers (I could easily see all five of her left hand fingers).

‘Must’ve been a friendship ring.’ I thought to myself.

She looked over at me and gave me a half-smirk and sat down.

Meanwhile, I just sat there listening to iPod.

A week later she sat next to me and I panicked (if I had a paper bag I would’ve started to breathe into it). I faced the sad fact that I hadn’t matured much since junior high. [But seriously, it's just the breaking the ice part for me. Once I get past this stage then... everything sorta becomes a little less awkward.]

In an effort to be 'more adult', I tried to pump myself up, by giving myself some confidence (by means of chanting 'WADE! WADE! WADE! WADE!’ over and over again, to myself in my head –lips not moving). I started to sweat a bit. It was now or never. I leaned over looking at the case in her sack, and quietly mustered, "I love the clarinet. Ah,.. I mean, Miss, is that a clarinet?"

She shook her head and looked down at her case and then at me, "No, it’s a pool cue."

I was confused. "Pool cue, in that little case? Come on!" I didn't mean to be harsh, but it kinda came out of my mouth that way, like I thought she was really full of it.

"No really, it’s a screw in." She showed me the '8 ball' sticker that was on the bottom of the case. She then opened the case and I saw in four pieces what was a shiny, pink pool stick.

"Oh... that's pretty." I said, sounding girlie.

And that was the extent of our conversation for that ride.

Two weeks later, I was sitting up front when she came on the bus and sat next to me again (and if you're wondering, YES, there were a bunch of empty seats on the bus, and she chose to sit by me). She was wearing this really cool pink scarf. I don't know much about scarves, but this one seemed very pretty. As she mauled her bagel like she hadn't eaten for weeks, I waited for the right time to unload what I had prepared to say to her for the last two weeks.

"The Black Widow is a great female pool player, but me... I am more of a Irish Invader kinda guy. I mean that woman, though not so good looking, can take the pressure and sink that eight ball like nobody's business."

Yes, I actually memorized these lines and delivered them to her with perfection.

(By the way, I googled 'Women's billiards' and that's how I got my info, and I also sorta became fascinated by it..)

She smiled and giggled, while it felt like every person that surrounded us on the bus burst into laughter. I should have just focused on her smile, but instead… I focused on the surrounding laughter. I was on the verge of tears. I came prepared and I felt I somehow blew it.

As we got off the bus, she turned to me and said, "I like the Irish Invader, too."

This blew me away, so much that I couldn't get any words out of my mouth, and as other people got off the bus we sort of got pushed in opposite directions.

In a last effort, she turned to see me as the crowd pushed her further away.

"The Irish Invader, she’s the best!" I confidently yelled at the top of my lungs.

I briefly saw her smile, but the mass exodus of the bus was too much. She was gone.

That was the last day I saw my pool playing, bus crush. I still catch the 7:03am every weekday, to no avail.

And now late at night, when I am watching reruns of old billiard championships (which is often as of late), I see the Irish Invader kicking butt, and I can't help but feel some solace, because I know she's out there somewhere watching it too. We are now somehow connected thanks to the Irish Invader.