Receipt Blogging

Today I rode the bus four hours to Port Townsend and four hours back. I forgot my notebook, but I had been quite a good little consumer and fortunately had a collection of receipts in my wallet.

So I'm sitting on a bench at 9:00 in the morning, waiting for a bus to Mt. Vernon. A canche with braces sits on the ground next to me and starts rolling a cigarette.
"You catchin' the 80X?" he drolls lazily.
"Yeah."
He lights up and starts smoking, drooling all over the place.
"Do you want to sit on the bench?" (what can I say, I'm used to dealing with a snobby clientele)
He doesn't want to. Instead, he asks me when the bus leaves and spits on the ground, after making a throaty dying-hog type utterance. Shameless.
He drags his fingernails through a matted mess of dirty blonde hair and spits again. I keep reading my book.
A few minutes later, I notice a drop of something clear on the book and realize that this man is spitting all over the place--spewing, as it were. Things get curioser as I realize that now he is spitting at me. He's standing up, facing me directly, and spitting at me.
Now that I'm covered in droplets, the man stamps out his cigarette and walks away.

Oh, and I forgot to mention why I'm catching a Skagit bus at 9AM in the first place.
Well, it's all about Sierra. She disappeared about two months ago, just about the time I headed off to Guatemala. Now I come back to find that she scrapped her massage school plans and is leaving her childhood home tomorrow to live in Denver, Colorado. Drama. So I'm going on a manic goose chase to find my months-estranged friend in Port Townsend, a four hour trip via bus and ferry. I will probably end up sleeping in a park tonight.
I feel like a suicide bomber.

Okay, I'll finish typing these up when it's not 1:38AM.