Editor’s Note: This story was originally published in 2012. No details have been changed so as to retain the spirit of the original story.
“You don’t need a transfah, hunny, that is one, ” he said, a Dunkin Donuts cup in one hand and a flat brim black lid in the other.
Of course, it is, I thought to myself; this was just one more thing to add to my list of rookie RIPTA mistakes. There were three of us on the bus this morning, the man with the hat, Jonny the driver and myself. The two men were talking in a friendly manner, laughing and joking, the man with the hat looking at me from time to time to add me into the conversation with little phrases like, “Pauly D, you know he got beat up heya last week?” He wore weathered Timberland boots and faded blue Dickies that matched his eyes, pale and inviting, with a twinkle that seemed to come from his childish laughter. His uniform was covered by a black sweatshirt screen printed with a copper skull, a gray tee popping out from under his uniform.
I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on their conversation; I gathered the two men were Italian, and the two could have walked off of the set of Brotherhood:
” What was his name? Chris uhhh, Chris uhhh…Wha’ was his name Jonny?”
“Chris uhhh, Chris… You know, the Italian one. The one with the finga.”
“Chris uhhh, Chris uhhh.”
“Chris uhhh, Chris…”
They both started laughing contagiously, the man with the hat looking at me stating that he knew Chris’ last name and that he’d remember it as soon as he was off the bus. They picked up right where they left off, their conversation moving in unparalleled directions, always circling back to “Chris uhhh…”
“Chris, you know the finga guy.” He pointed his index finger and lifted his thumb, making a gun shape with his hand. “Chris the Finga.”
“He said he just wants to be friends with her, yeah I’m sure he just wants to be friends.”
“Of course he does, he’s an Italian.”
“Yeah, dose guys I dunno how dey do it. Friend, ha!”
“What’s his name, Chris the finga guy.”
The surface value of their stereotypical “Rhode Islandisms” could not be ignored; from their quintessential Rhode Island accents to the unmistakable Italian features I felt like I was watching a live episode of the Sopranos. Outspoken and always joking, they were kind and young at heart.
Erin Rides the Bus 