Yesterday I stopped at Victrola, en route to another hospital visit with my mom. While I was in line, two of the baristas–you know the types: Gen Y, artsy, fit, slightly alternative–started talking about the bus. The guy barista called the girl barista his “bus buddy.”

“I always see her on the 43,” he explained to the small group of us waiting for our drinks.

I couldn’t resist the opportunity to join in a conversation about buses and so said something useless about the 43 being the bus to ride on the Hill.

“Yeah,” said the guy behind me. “Everybody’s doing it.”

Over the weekend, I rode the bus with a man who was pretend-talking on the phone. Remember when you were little and you imagined that you had some very important job–like you were the president or something–and you would pick up an imaginary phone and have very important imaginary conversations with your VP and members of your cabinet? Picture that, except with a grown man and a real cell phone.

The man in question was old and very frail, yet he stood in the back near the door, despite the numerous empty seats. Here’s how his “conversation” went:

“I’m going to finish that section on composition.” [pause] “I did comment on that. Yes, that was excellent, and congratulations to you. OK. Uh-huh. We’ll wait and see if he graduates. OK. Alright. Uh-huh. Yes.”

Then, he began again.

“I’m going to finish that section on composition.” [pause] “I did comment on that. Yes, that was excellent, and congratulations to you. OK. Uh-huh. We’ll wait and see if he graduates. OK. Alright. Uh-huh. Yes.”

And again. And again, using exactly the same words, in exactly the same order, at exactly the same pace, for the entire ride. He was still talking while the driver lowered the lift to let him off.