Get Psyched

The thing with taking the bus when you live in the outskirts is that you are 1 of 2 things: Either really early or late. You are never just on time for anything. I show up 30 minutes early for my doctor’s appointment (which basically means I am an hour early) after already having to wait 2 hours just to take the connection to the hospital.

The people here are always interesting. But, it’s expected seeing that this is a psychiatric hospital. I’m an outpatient, thankfully. Before I can open the main doors into the building, a man bursts through, “Can I have a smoke M’am?” When I say I don’t smoke he immediately asks the person coming in after me. I imagine he’ll harass everyone until he gets a cigarette.

I walk into the busy waiting room, grab a number, there’s a seat against the furthest wall and I sit down. There is a man around my age sitting 1 seat over from me, who smells bad and is breathing heavily listening to music while reading a magazine. It seems counterproductive. I’m having a difficult time ignoring him. I continue to sniff the vanilla au du toilette that I’m wearing from Victoria’s Secret but it isn’t masking the BO from that man. It continues to waft through the air hitting my nostrils every few seconds. Finally my number get’s called.

I go into the office, give them my information and then go back to my seat to wait for my Psychiatrist. The back wall is still the only place to sit. I am relieved momentarily when BO man decides to go to the bathroom located in the waiting room. A few minutes later, I can hear him taking a loud shit. Gross. Some people are looking around, but for the most part I seem to be the only one disturbed by this. I eventually try to find solstice in my Blackberry until it’s my turn.

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