Election Night/Daisy Gets New Pajamas/The Mysterious Case of the $2 Bills

Last night on the way home I passed the time by playing a game in my mind, the goal of which was to look at other people on the bus and try to guess which way they will vote in this election. I was especially careful not to unintentionally stereotype people into one camp or the other, but rather actually try — for just a second — to read their true intention. After a short while I became too distracted to continue. Sure, I was seeing Hillary in many faces, but Trump kept coming up in equal doses — often in the most unexpected places. But what really distressed me was a perceived sense of apathy in many. No intent of any kind, only a quiet surrender to whatever. This is what troubles me the most today.

The morning after. No one speaks. The bus is silent.

It’s a brand new day. Deep breath. Exhale. It will be OK.

We’re all slowly coming undone. Daisy has taken to walking to and from the bus stop in her purple pajamas and Scout has just verbally accosted a female passerby for “hooking up with Thor.”

A sweet looking little old lady just pulled a bottle of vodka out of her handbag and downed half the bottle in one gulp.

The “Mysterious Caper of the $2 Bills” arrives just in time to distract us.

Bossy Boots is a new addition to the bus. She wears shiny leather knee high boots with designer jeans tucked neatly inside, a stylish sweater, and a long (possibly cashmere) coat.

She immediately brings to mind the children’s game “Which of these is not like the other?” Standing next to Daisy in her pajamas and Scout in his multiple layers of drab, she appears out of place — perhaps more fashionably suited for an Uber than the bus.

Bossy Boots enjoys having private conversations on her cell phone in a loud voice.

Today she called her two children to ask them if their father had ever given them $2 bills as a gift. Both children said no. She then challenged each of them in turn, accusing them of being untruthful. Both children stood by their original response.

One of the children must have inquired as to the reason for her strange question. She explained that their paternal grandmother was recently robbed of a large number of $2 bills. The woman had been collecting them in a lock box. Apparently there are only three people who have the combination to this box. The grandmother and her two sons. Bossy Boots , apparently estranged from her husband, was convinced that he was the culprit and that his guilt could be confirmed if it was proven that he gave a few of the purloined bills to his offspring.

As the rather long conversation was winding down, she rang the bell signaling the driver to stop the bus.

“Now I have the unpleasant task” she announced to the entire bus “of explaining to your grandmother that your uncle is a thief.”

The colors of late Autumn are so much more beautiful than those displayed earlier in the season. When the flashy yellow and gold fades to deep orange and russet, I am reminded that the changing of the seasons is serious business.

An early snow. The first snow of the season is always exciting.

Scout arrived at the bus stop this morning feeling elated. “Hey! Tomorrow is Thanksgiving!” he said “Wow! It’s like it’s going to jump right out at us!”

I would never think it appropriate to run into a busy intersection chasing a bus that has already left the stop, and then pound on the door with the expectation that the driver should open it. But it happens a lot.

The ratio of passengers who step into the bus with their umbrellas completely open vs those who politely close the umbrella before boarding appears to be 75/25%.

Seeing all the advertisements onboard the bus for holiday events reminds me that I once sat through “The Nutcracker”. It was the longest three hours of my life.

Sometimes stepping on to the bus. is like arriving on the island of misfit toys.

Why would someone tattoo the word SAUERKRAUT across all ten fingers, one letter per digit?

A stranger broke the typical Monday morning silence at the bus stop when he arrived singing and dancing what seemed to be a combination of samba and tap. Whatever it was, he was certainly having a good time. As if to shift the attention back to himself, Scout announced loudly that he has a tapeworm.