Oct 2017
I remember a time I was riding the bus a few years ago. Now, I know I have no rights or ownership over public transportation - and honestly, thank God. I am too neurotic a person to be in charge of something that is actively on fire every other month or so. It's still better than driving in the city, so I can only be so critical. But still, I'm critical.
It was early evening, and the commuter stress was just about to reach its boiling point. The mingling of body heat with mouth breathing combined with the hermetically sealed windows could create its own ecosystem in these conditions, but this was not the tropical getaway that any of us had envisioned. Alone on a full bus, it's easy enough for me to pretend to be reading or checking emails while scoping and scouting for a spectacle of human disaster, of whose life is probably far more interesting than mine. This particular bus was ripe for people-watching. People shuffled uncomfortably away from the person on their left into the person on their right and some sloppy white-collared ******* was coughing INTO THE AIR and it was as if I could feel the spores of his stale cigarettes and his $40 lunch gently wafting and twirling and landing right on my lips and face; a romantic kiss from a stranger.
I watched a woman twisting her elbow absentmindedly. It was a dreary day and she was looking and leaning toward the window, subconsciously trying to absorb as much sun as possible. There was a mother and child sitting next to me. The child was crying - disturbed by the heat, disturbed by everything. The already exhausted, overworked mother had had enough of everything the day had thrown at her and smacked her wailing babe so she could have just a moment of control and feel as if she could make her world momentarily slow down and bend to her command. The child retreated inwardly, save for a few defiant sniffles. A dense silence set in. I remember this, and wonder which of the two I am more like? I think I know, but I don't want to say it.
It was early evening, and the commuter stress was just about to reach its boiling point. The mingling of body heat with mouth breathing combined with the hermetically sealed windows could create its own ecosystem in these conditions, but this was not the tropical getaway that any of us had envisioned. Alone on a full bus, it's easy enough for me to pretend to be reading or checking emails while scoping and scouting for a spectacle of human disaster, of whose life is probably far more interesting than mine. This particular bus was ripe for people-watching. People shuffled uncomfortably away from the person on their left into the person on their right and some sloppy white-collared ******* was coughing INTO THE AIR and it was as if I could feel the spores of his stale cigarettes and his $40 lunch gently wafting and twirling and landing right on my lips and face; a romantic kiss from a stranger.
I watched a woman twisting her elbow absentmindedly. It was a dreary day and she was looking and leaning toward the window, subconsciously trying to absorb as much sun as possible. There was a mother and child sitting next to me. The child was crying - disturbed by the heat, disturbed by everything. The already exhausted, overworked mother had had enough of everything the day had thrown at her and smacked her wailing babe so she could have just a moment of control and feel as if she could make her world momentarily slow down and bend to her command. The child retreated inwardly, save for a few defiant sniffles. A dense silence set in. I remember this, and wonder which of the two I am more like? I think I know, but I don't want to say it.
