About last night

So last night I went to a birthday party. It was in the Village — Church Street for those of you who are unfamiliar. We drank, we celebrated, we laughed, we ate a cake, all in all it was a great time. When it was time to go, I walked a few friends up the street to Wellesley, said goodbye and said I would get a cab. I started walking towards Yonge Street. I was feeling lucid. Sure, I was a little drunk and a little high, but in a good way, the way that you know you are not ready to hop into a cab and head home. So, I walked. I walked up to Bloor Street and when I reached it, I noticed people waiting for the bus. I thought, hey, I should take the bus! It's bound to be interesting at 2:45am. So I went to the stop and waited. I knew it would not be long as there were many people there. Yes, drunk people. Yes, sloppy drunk people. I was excited. This is going to be fun. And I was not wrong. A sing a long of Wham's Careless Whisper, the highlight. Followed by a slightly offensive discussion of why George Micheal should not have been caught having gay sex in a washroom. A man standing up, eating a Shawarma, messily, pieces falling onto the floor, dangerously close to a sitting passenger's arm. A couple making out, pretty intensely which had me wondering, why they just didn't take a cab, but maybe being on a bus does it for them. A conversation between two straight women about a rejection that occurred earlier on. I looked at the woman, she was SO beautiful, and being so hard on herself, I wanted to tell her, 'hey, you are beautiful, he's an idiot, forget him!' When my stop came, I wormed my way through the drunk bodies, ignoring the last ditch efforts to pick up. Hey, it's late and hey, I'm gay (I think). Goodnight Bloor bus, I'm glad I took you.