COTA Chatter

Boy, today was awful on the bus. It was raining so all the windows were closed and it was kind of warm also. There was all kinds of stale funk going on. I have a few nuggets from the last week.

A few days ago I was waiting for a transfer downtown. I feel like I should point something out for those who don't know Columbus and for those who do but don't ride the bus. The main hub of COTA, where (I think) every single bus stops is the corner of Broad St and High St downtown. This is also ostensibly the hub of Ohio, because it is the location of the statehouse. It makes it interesting because the knee-height stone wall that rings the statehouse serves mostly as a bench for a bus-stop along one whole block. Ohio: The Heart of it All!

Anyway, I was waiting for a transfer, sitting on this wall and rolling a cigarette. A man asked me for one and I just couldn't get over his appearance. He was in all denim, jacket and jeans. He looked to be about a once-a-month shaver. What really blew my mind though was that he had an honest-to-god personal cassette player. It was tucked into the breast pocket of his jean jacket. Also the headphones were taped together. With masking tape. It was like he crawled out of a dumpster from 1986.

The next day I was approached by a man on a bus. Whenever this happens you know its gonna be good and, dear reader, you know its gonna make it on COTA Chatter. He was very-well dressed in a stylish suit and shoes with a high polish. He also wore a skull cap and had longish, straightened hair (he was black). He smelled nice too, now that I think of it. I also have to mention that he was missing many teeth. The ones that remained were obviously enjoying their freedom and independence, lounging in any direction they pleased.

He introduced himself as James and then he kind of looked me over quickly.

"You're a tall guy, right?" he said.

"Um, sure," I shrugged. I'm 6'1" with shoes on. I don't actually consider myself to be tall, though I am taller than the average person.

James continued, saying that he was a recruiter for a modeling agency. He handed me a card. Not his card, but rather a card from the agency inviting me for an interview. I must admit I was a little flattered. He took my name and number, the card made it seem legitimate enough to give them out. He told me that someone would give me a call to set up an interview. Before he got off the bus he told me to dress nice for the interview. Oh, yeah. He also mentioned that some models make $1,000 a day.

"You be walking down the runway in Italian suits," is how he described it.

Like I said, I was flattered. Even more so when I learned from my friend Nick that it is, in fact, a legitimate outfit. If they call me I will go in for an interview. I don't think I have any chance of working as a model. I'm certainly not ugly but I am equally certain that I am not model material. But then, who knows? I would probably have to borrow some clothes and maybe use a little product in my hair. I have a friend who could probably help me out in that department. If I go for an interview my loyal TRJ readers will be the first to know.