The bus finally arrived, which was helpful, because I wasn't sure if Samish was expecting me to describe my comparatively boring life where I spent most of my time shuttling between lab, classes, and studying. As a television character, the best I probably could be compared to would be an extra in the background. The bus driver was a large cheerful man named Tracy, and Samish rushed forward to introduce himself and shake his hand. Tracy seemed stunned, not used to being introduced to his passengers. I decided it was probably best not to follow Samish's lead and did not introduce myself. “Hey man,” Samish said to Tracy, “speed as much as you want. I've got protection.” “Oh really?” said Tracy, with a bemused smile on his face. Discounting the fact that the bus we were in could only go forty miles per hour, just barely above the speed limit, the fact that someone was openly bragging about being protected by cops was an amusing one, to say the least. Samish then proceeded to repeat his entire story while I gazed out the window at the passing scenery that I had seen a thousand times before.

“So yeah man, I'm afraid to be out in public now. I mean, last week, my car was stolen, and I'm not even sleeping in my own place any more!” said Samish, ending his second retelling of his story. Besides these details, the rest of the story remained unchanged, so I just went along with it. Tracy seemed to be more interested in the story than I was. “So how did you know all these guys?” he asked, referring to the laundry list of people that Samish reportedly gave to the police. “You know the 18^th Street gang in Tijuana?” Samish replied, “I used to be a part of it.” A former gang member with an MBA and billionaire parents who lives life in the fast lane; could it get any better than this? Of course, I had no knowledge of the supposed 18^th Street gang, but for the sake of simplicity, I again just took Samish's word for it. “What do you mean by 'used to be a part of it'?” asked Tracy. “Oh, I retired,” Samish said nonchalantly, looking quite proud of himself. I wasn't aware that one could retire from a gang. In my head I wondered what a retirement package would look like. Obviously, he had forgone any protection he got from the gang in his admission today, but he didn't seem too bothered by it.

As we approached the final stop, Samish suddenly asked, “Hey, do you think you could let me off a little beforehand?” “Sure,” Tracy replied, “I'll let you off at the stop right before.” “Great, thanks.” said Samish. “I don't want to be seen in public too much, so many people are out for me.” One can never be too careful I suppose, but once again, he had just told his story to two complete strangers who could have readily identified him in a lineup. Or a body bag. Preferably the lineup, or not at all. We stopped by the pool and Samish got off, walking towards the library, his eyes shifting side to side every now and then.

“Do you know him?” Tracy asked, turning to me. “No, I have no idea who he was,” I reply. “Interesting guy though,” Tracy said, turning back to close the bus doors. “Yeah,” I agreed, as we made our way back on the road. I never saw or heard from Samish again.