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In the late 80s I ended up on a bus from North Minneapolis to South Minneapolis at around 9pm after a school play.
With me were my sister and several of our friends.
I'll never know if this was in any way an out of the ordinary ride for the time and place. For context, we are all 13-15 years old, all white kids.
A middle-aged black man holding a very small suitcase gets on and walks to the very back of the bus, sitting next to one of my sisters friends. Out of his jacket he pulls a few red roses and hands them to her. He then begins to flirt with her, angering other passengers and causing the bus driver to scream at him and kick him off.
A fight breaks out in the front of the bus. Everyone, including the driver and the couple fighting, are laughing. Then one stumbles into the driver and they get kicked off.
A drunk man comes and sits next to me and my friend Nick. Nick and I are chatting about a game, probably Warhammer Fantasy.
The man asks Nick for a favor.
"What?"
"Teach me your language."
"What??"
"Teach me Russian."
"I don't know Russian!"
"Teach me anyway."
That's it. Of all of those I'm now sure the drunk guy was just deliberately fucking with us. But we also all made it home safely. Just a little window into 80s Minneapolis night life.
I remember on our bus ride to school we passed an old store that had, spray painted on the side, "Forgive them, Lord, for they know not what they do."
Months went by and I'd ponder that a bit when we passed it, until someone updated the old quote.
"Forgive them, Lord, for they know not what they doo-doo."