One fine day, Brent and I decided to go see a film at Movies 8. I don't actually know if Anchorman counts as a "film" because it transcends the art of film. Anyway, we wanted to go there. And of course, we didn't have cars. So Brent decided to instantly become a genius at public transportation. You have to understand where we were coming from. Public transportation in our small hometown was pretty much limited to hitchhiking with meth heads.
Brent downloaded the UTA bus schedule to his Brain à la Sam Witwicky after he touches the piece of the allspark that got left in his purse.
I thought we were in a different city it felt like we were on the bus for so long. But we were actually just a few blocks away. Seriously. I could throw a football to Movies 8 from where we lived. But the dang bus took a crazy route that went through the ghettos of the town. We're talking west of 500W. One time I got a cup of sunflower seeds thrown at me west of 500W.
Since Brent had memorized pre-Googlemaps (we're talkin' super grainy illegal Russian satellite hackin', people!) satellite imagery of the valley, he understood every swing the bus made. He had no fear of the toothless homeless guy who was telling us about the radio antenna that the Viet Cong put in his teeth back in the 80's (he was there for a really long time). And by the time we got to Movies 8 he knew exactly when to pull the rope to indicate to our busdriver that we wanted to "parar."
And that was the start of the craziest year ever.
Plus, he's a wizard!
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