7-July-2009 4:15PM

I place myself in harm’s way sitting here in the first forward-facing row on the right while not implanting a barrier onto my aisle seat. Why? I’m not completely sure of my own motive in all actuality. Usually when I let the “shields” down, I end up with an oversized bag of flesh next to me, pressing me flat against the window and the bus fuselage. Just doing as I have and recognizing that the likely potential consequences can easily put me into the category of a masochist, yes, very easily indeed.

Just now a thin lady passes my seat even though a friend of hers seats herself across from me in that aisle seat, and by doing so interrupts their current conversation. Nope, luck does not usually follow me around. Instead I must gaze at a “chip-on-his-shoulders” mug straight ahead to my front, a little corpulent and a bit too interested in everyone else in an overly conspicuous manner. His bald and creased head swivels and wobbles fanatically atop a tight fitting track suit of black mesh with green and white strips down the sleeves.

A poor short and stout woman closely resembling a toad joins me in my row, but I count it as a blessing since she at least doesn’t meld into my space nor emit any virulent stink. However, what makes this a little difficult to take is that she is followed by two absolute femmes fatales belles, exquisite and luscious forms, both with long sinuous dark hair. One of them had aimed for my row just previously, but when the present passenger detoured at the last possible microsecond all hopes were dashed –and I can assure you that I probably had the greater disappointment than she would ever fathom having.

-But then this is the story of my life…