Yet another reason why I need to start a Minneapolis edition of This Is Grand:

Got on the 2C after work yesterday to find a haggard-looking man, probably drunk, stretched on the sideways-facing bench seats at the front of the bus. A short woman wearing a mullet and a gray tracksuit, and looking to be of American Indian extraction, was standing over him and hollering at him to get up. As the bus started moving again, she gave up and sat down, and I pressed pause on my iPod. This was going to be good, and I didn’t want to miss anything.

As the bus made its loop around Stadium Village, Tracksuit Mullet began pulling the stop cord at nearly every stop, hoping to incite her companion to get off. But he wasn’t budging. As we continued north, the following exchange occurred between Tracksuit Mullet, Haggard Drunk Man, and the driver:

TM: GET UP!
HDM: Where the fuck are we?
TM: GET UP!
HDM: Where the fuck are we?
TM: We’re heading back to Northeast. GET UP!
HDM: I asked where we ARE!
TM: GET UP!
HDM: You’re supposed to protect me.
TM: GET UP!
HDM: Driver man, where are we?
DRIVER: 15th Avenue.
HDM: Where are we?
DRIVER: 15th Avenue.
HDM: Is that North or South? 15th what? North or South?
DRIVER: Northeast.
TM: GET UP!
HDM: Where the fuck are we?
TM: We’re by McDonald’s. GET UP!
HDM: NO!
TM: We’re going to McDonald’s.
HDM: NO!
TM: YES! I want … big fries.

The man eventually got up, but not until more like 12th Ave. They would have to walk back to McDonald’s. Also, he had to get his bike off the rack on the front of the bus. For some reason that struck me as the weirdest part of the whole thing—that he had a bike.