Winter Comes To The Bus Stop/Freya Arrives/Freckles’ Dilemma

Freya arrives at the bus stop each morning dressed for winter. She wears a long wool coat, snow boots trimmed with fur, and a knitted cap that is shaped like a Viking helmet. She is young, probably no more than 20, but has an aura that seems much older. Her long black hair is usually braided. Freya often brings her breakfast to the bus stop. It’s always something unusual. Today she munched delicate chocolate cookies dipped in yogurt. She never says anything. She just stands there. The men at the bus stop are in awe of her, which makes her name all the more suitable.

How strange. I thought a question and Siri responded “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite get that…”

Watched two young friends take turns snapping portrait style photos of each other today with an obviously new camera. Each of them posed in turn, face slightly downwards and to the side with an air of pretended indifference.

Overheard on today’s commute:

“Life is what you have.”

“Life is what you make it.”

“No, sometimes you want to make it, but you can’t. But you still have it.”

Mixed message evening. The man on the bus told me that Jesus was going to take away my FaceBook account if I didn’t accept a drop of his blood into my heart. But the woman outside the liquor store told me that Jesus loves me.

One of the least popular passengers (a loud mouthed, prone to profanity type) was trying to get off the bus today while carrying a large holiday cake. She almost tripped on her way down the aisle. When she left the bus, a fellow rider said aloud “If I had the choice of either catching her or the cake, I would have saved the cake.” Even the bus driver laughed.

Pretty sure that the Ninth Circle of Hell involves a wind chill factor.

It occurred to me today that it had been a few weeks since I had seen Sam at his usual spot in front of CVS, so I asked a clerk inside the store about him. “He’s been very sick. Cancer, I think. We haven’t seen him around for a while. A few of the other homeless people say he’s in the hospital.”

Christmas Eve.

Surreal morning at the bus stop. Most of the regulars must have the day off. There’s only a few of us, including Scout and Google. The weather is so mild that a car drives past with the window down, the radio blaring “Good Golly Miss Molly.”

Google announces to no one in particular that he got a new laptop for Christmas. It has 2GB of memory. He repeats it several times. A woman jogs past dressed in harlequin patterned tights.

After waiting in the cold for a bus home for 2 1/2 hours, and enduring a cramped subway ride with a little girl who wouldn’t stop singing “Jingle Bells”, the Frumpy Dumpy family who apparently will die if they don’t have Chicken Teriyaki right this very minute, my Happy Holidays train has officially run out of steam. I’m left with the harsh possibility that I really don’t like people very much at all.

Scout has created a magical kingdom all his own. He told Freya that it’s a place only he can find. There’s no way for anyone else to find it, no matter how much you want to be there. It’s not on any map.

“How did you find this place?” she asked.

“I built my own bridge” was his reply.

Every morning just before my bus arrives, the 65 stops on our corner. No one is ever on the 65, and no one ever gets on. The driver stops, opens the door, shuts the door and drives off. Today she paused and said loudly “No one wants me, but happy New Year anyway!”

Below zero. The fact that most of my fellow passengers are still drinking iced coffee proves what a tough crowd we are.

Mixed metaphors — someone just said that they always finish what they start by taking it back to the drawing board

Freckles engaged me in a long conversation yesterday afternoon while waiting for our bus. We’ve never spoken before so it was a bit of a surprise. Her daily commute is longer than mine, although both involve a bus, subway and a long walk at the end of the line. She always arrives home well after dark. Apparently a man followed her the other day which made her apprehensive. “He called me a white trash European bitch” she said. Adding to her commuting challenges is the fact that she always has to use a bathroom at some point on the journey home, so she goes into “Chipotle” and buys a soda before boarding the subway. “You can’t use the bathroom unless you’re a customer, so I always buy a small soda, ask for the key, and tell the cashier to give the soda to the next person in line. $1.49 a day just to pee. Doesn’t sound like white trash to me.”

Me(to 90 if she’s a day lady struggling to get across train tracks with walker): Need some help?

Her: I’m all set. Mind your own business.

When the “65" stopped on our corner today, someone actually got on. The driver was so surprised that she almost started crying. We all applauded. The gentleman who boarded the bus was very confused.

Boston Nor’Easter — when good umbrellas go bad

I think the bus driver voted for Trump. He keeps telling everyone “don’t be nervous”? He’s making me nervous.

20 something to 70 something stranger as he tries to make polite conversation:

“I love Doris Day and Dean Martin.”

No reaction.

“Frank Sinatra?”

Nothing.

“So what celebrities do you like?”

70 something (with big smile): “The Kardashians”

Some conversations, when overheard out of context, are difficult to follow. Like this one:

“So there was this huge polar bear but he couldn’t swim. And there were no dogs, no dogs. I mean, no dogs. So I said to her This just doesn’t make sense. There should be a dog. And the bear should swim, right?”

The strange man with teeth filed down into fangs who stops to say hello to me every morning at the bus stop is starting to worry me. Today he quoted the rabbit from “Alice in Wonderland”.

Be careful out there if you’re in New England folks. The bus is going sideways on these icy roads today. Accidents everywhere.

Just suffered through a long bus ride with a drunk racist on a rant against gays, blacks and Muslims. Apparently everyone on the bus was inferior in some way or another to his booze reeking white supremacist self.

Finding a pair of old boots that you forgot you had on the eve of another snowstorm is like running into an old friend unexpectedly- but better.

Bus broke down and had to be rescued. Interesting start to the day. Just as well. The first bus smelled like wet dog.

Overheard on the evening commute:

“She dumped me! Can you believe it? We’ve been together for six years. What the hell did I do to deserve that?”

“There’s an age difference, right? Could that be it?”

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

“How old is she?”

“Mid 30’s I think. I don’t really know.”

My question as to why the bus was running 20 minutes late this morning was answered when upon boarding the driver asked me how to get to Cambridge.

Several homeless people pushing and shoving each other in front of the CVS this morning. I asked the clerk what was going on. “Sam is dead”, he said matter of factly, “They’re fighting for his spot in front of the store.”

Scout to Freya today:

Is that a new phone?

Yes, an iPhone 7.

I don’t like cell phones.

Why not?

Because every time I try to use one, it gives me attitude.