Bus Stop

Last night I imbibed, heavily, and did not dream. This is not how it always or usually goes, but that's how it was last night.
With my head expanded as it was, though, I did some pretty fantastic writing.
There was a point in the evening, while waiting for the bus, when I was bombarded with ideas and words. I actually felt battered by them, and I was elated during the entire beating. I was pacing and trying to hold on to the thoughts until I could get home and write them down, when it dawned on me that I had a book in my bag and a pen, too! It wasn't a notebook, it was a book I am reading, "The Bottoms," by Joe R. Lansdale. I thought, "I'll write in this book and I won't forget!" I was so happy to have remembered this book that I laughed out loud and people looked at me. In fact, I could feel people looking at me almost the entire time I wrote: people who pulled up and stopped at the red lights, people walking by in both directions, on either side of the street, people in front of the pizza shop on the corner.
And I could not blame them! I was waltzing up and down the sidewalk, leaning against a wall here to support my writing hand, leaning over a mailbox there, stopping and looking at the sky, concentrating, beginning again with rough starts and mumbled "Oh!s"
And I am sure I was smiling the whole time. I was interrupted only once - by a boy begging change. When I gave him a handful of nickels he was elated, too, and for a moment there were two of us beaming on the sidewalk in the dark.

Addendum: So, I sorted out last night's events with a sober mind, and guess what? I got it backwards. The boy asked me for change FIRST! It was that interaction that sparked all that writing! Looks like my ego creeps in when I'm not looking!