Nancy Goes Dancing/Lily Arrives/Mr Green Goes Fishing/Unrequited Love

Suspicious package left on the bus today. A concerned passenger informed the bus driver that a woman just exited the bus in a hurry leaving behind an unattended backpack. “Bring me the backpack” was his response.

A water main break in the neighborhood. The bus stop is completely under water.

I can’t help but comment on the sudden lack of diversity on the morning commute. Over the past week, our numbers have been noticeably reduced. Where once was a crowded bus with smiling faces representing different cultures and speaking many colorful languages there are now just a handful of passengers who stare straight ahead and try not to notice all the empty seats. Yesterday I noticed a Hispanic gentleman whispering to two ladies about the danger of fake immigration authorities who are allegedly extorting the immigrant community. When he saw that I was listening he stopped talking and looked away. It doesn’t help that the driver keeps saying “get your papers in order” under his breath.

Officially a rebel without a cause. A few weeks ago I discarded my gloves in protest of Winter and to welcome Spring. After two weekends of below zero temperatures, mind numbing wind, and a blizzard I have come to realize that it was an empty gesture.

First robin sighting! On the way to the morning bus stop, passed a lone bird digging up his breakfast in the park — a reminder that the early bird really does get the worm.

Are we texting or walking people? Pick one.

Kids are amazing. Just watched a little convince his father that they were traveling in the wrong direction by comparing the bus stops to a paper schedule.

The woman who sat next to me on the bus tonight had a very heavy Boston accent. She was apparently having trouble communicating with an automated voice mail system. Her objective seemed to be filling a prescription. The following are her words, spoken with increasing frustration.

FAHmacy

FAHmacy

Oh for Gods sake, FAH MA CY

Customah Sahvas

CUSTOMAH SAHVAS

What is wrong with you people?

Help me with somethin else

SOMETHIN else

I need to talk to someone.

Operatah

OPERATAH

FAHmacy

OK just forget it. Don’t fill the pahscription. I cant do this anymore. The next call is to my lawyah.

Freya has gone from wearing Winter Woolies to a hot pink knee length overcoat, leggings and army boots.

The last tree to surrender its leaves in Autumn is the first to blossom in the Spring.

There’s a woman on my bus that I’ve never written about until now. It’s probably because she is so genuine, so truly good, that she defies parody. Her name is Nancy.

Nancy was, presumably, born with a disability. Her left leg is shorter than the other and the foot deformed. She drags her leg behind her as she walks.

Today I noticed that Nancy has a new pair of headphones and was listening to music. Her right foot tapped in time to the music, her head swayed from side to side, her hands weaved patterns in the air to the beat only she could hear.

I thought for a minute that, in her minds eye, she was visualizing herself sweeping across a dance floor — both legs in motion, her body twirling to the music, not missing a step. A “better” version of her physical self. One without limitations.

I suppose we can all imagine a “better” version of ourselves without much effort. Younger, thinner, healthier, more attractive. But can physical changes alone, real or imagined, truly make us better than we are? Perhaps the things that hold us back from our true potential are not physical at all.

All things considered, perhaps it’s better to take a little longer than others to get off the bus than to go through life dragging around old grudges or to bear the burden of a heart that won’t forgive.

In the end we can only hope that the dance floors in our minds, like Nancy’s, are as vast and unlimited as our imaginations will allow. No walls or ceilings. Only the music, playing forever, as we move to the rhythm of our true potential — to be gentler, kinder, more loving human beings — better — than we are.

The newest addition to the morning bus stop is Lily. The name seems to suit her eccentricity. She never rides the bus, but visits every morning regardless. She dresses in pink slacks and blouse and wears white sneakers with shortie socks. Her trademark is a floppy lavender hat with a broad brim which is tied securely onto her head with a purple ribbon. She reminds me of the colors in a Monet painting.

Her curious routine goes like this. She exits a nearby apartment building carrying a recyclable cloth bag from the local market. Inside this bag is a plastic bag from the same market. Inside the plastic bag are various bits of paper which appear to be remnants of household trash. She carries the bag to within a half block of the bus stop and puts it down on the sidewalk. Then, very carefully and with the most precise focus, she removes one bit of paper at a time and carries it to a public trash bin adjacent to the bus stop. She then returns to the bag, picks up another piece of paper and repeats the process. She’ll do this three, four, five times and then go back to her apartment building.

A loud lament from the back of the bus this morning: “Oh my God, I only had two glasses of wine last night and my head is on fire!”

Overheard on this morning’s commute:

You seem sad, Mr Green. What’s going on?

I don’t know. Just feeling a little down.

You need to take a break, Mr Green, that’s what you need. Remember how you’re always talking about fishing?

Yes

Then go catch those fish Mr Green. Those fish are waiting for you. Go get them.

A new bus driver tonight who doesn’t know the route. He missed a turn and is just sort of making up a new route as he goes along. The good news is that he just shaved 20 minutes off the evening commute.

Overheard on tonight’s commute:

My girlfriend is like really cool but when she sleeps she scares the crap out of me.

Why?

Sometimes she makes this really weird guttural sound, like an animal.

She snores?

No, no, just a low growling sound. She freaks me out. It’s like I’m afraid to wake her up because she might turn into some werewolf or something.

The topic of today’s bus chronicles may be a little heavy but as the unofficial keeper of records I feel that I must document everything I observe on these morning commutes.

This entry is about unrequited love and the awkwardness that it can bring into our lives.

There are two sisters who ride the bus every day. They are probably in their 70's and look so much alike that they could be twins. Sweet ladies, always smiling. I call them Mary and Margaret. The sisters share an obvious crush on another commuter — a young man, in his 20's, handsome, athletic and incredibly built. He must work in construction as he arrives at the bus stop every day wearing tight jeans and a sleeveless T shirt. I call him Head & Shoulders because he reminds me of one of those ridiculously good looking shower models.

On a typical day the two sisters sit together, smiling and waving at the young man. He takes the flirting in good spirits, usually sitting just a few seats away from them. Sometimes he waves back and the sisters giggle. It’s all good natured fun.

One day recently Margaret arrived at the bus stop alone. When she boarded the mostly empty bus, she was delighted to see that the seat next to Head & Shoulders was unoccupied. It was a bold move on her part, but she slid in beside him and said good morning. Well, I suppose indulging the two ladies in their flirting from a distance is one thing but having one of them sit this close to him was quite another. Head & Shoulders completely ignored her. He put on his headphones and turned away, a look of disgust on his face.

The change in Margaret’s mood was painful to see.

What could she do but just sit there and pretend nothing was wrong. Moving away would have been even more awkward. So she continued to sit and smile and hold her head up high until it was time for her to get off the bus.

The sisters are reunited in their morning commute today.

Head & Shoulders is mysteriously absent.

In New England the word “Dunkin” can be helpful when providing directions.

Just today, I’ve heard:

“Meet me in front of Dunkins.”

“It’s the second red light after Dunkins.”

“If you’ve passed Dunkins, you’ve gone too far.”

Head & Shoulders returned today and was given the cold shoulder by Mary and Margaret. Instead the girls started smiling and waving at me. When considering the limited options on this bus apparently I’m the next best thing.