Consider the Bus Stop
I like to drown cookies.
Of course you can’t drown a cookie. Cookies aren’t alive (right?) But I think I’m drowning them when I hold them under the milk or the coffee and I see the bubbles come up, one two three four five up to maybe a dozen before they stop and you know the cookie is soft and filled with milk or coffee and ready to eat.
This, my friends, is something you think of while standing on a bus stop. Although in this case I didn’t think of it while standing on a bus stop, I thought of it while actually drowning a cookie and thinking I should get to writing my post about things that occur to one on a bus stop. So, here we are. I am writing, you are reading. Only you are not reading while I am writing, you are reading this sometime later. Hours, days, weeks, months, you’ll never know and neither will I. Does it matter? No. So why mention it?
I was standing on the bus stop tonight reading. Reading what? Doesn’t matter for the purposes of this exercise. Just know that I was standing there reading. There are days, many of them in fact, days during the tedious work week where the time I spend standing on the bus stop is the absolute best part of my whole day. In good weather, I quite enjoy a 10 or even 15 minute wait for a bus. You’re alone with your thoughts or something good to read (What? I told you already, it doesn’t matter) or with some amusing characters to entertain you and nobody making demands of you. You…
“Escuse me sir.”
A tourist of Hispanic descent interrupted my train of thought with that statement and then went to the doors of the express bus. The driver closed the doors in his face. The tourist shrugged, sighed, and came back to me.
“Escuse me sir, weech bus go to turd avenue?”
“You want the next bus stop over there” I said, pointing to my right. “These buses all go to Staten Island.”
“Thank you vury much sir.”
“No problem.”
Where was I? Oh yeah, alone with my thoughts. So on the bus stop, you’re alone with your thoughts and nobody making any demands of you. Most of the time. In the morning, the day has limitless potential. Standing on that bus stop is like that moment I remember hearing some major league pitcher describe as a moment of ultimate control. The pitcher said as long as he stood on the mound and held on to the ball nothing bad could happen. The minute he threw a pitch, all bets were off. Jim Bouton maybe? Doesn’t matter. Standing on the bus stop in the morning is the same thing. Work has not thrown the electronic leash known as “a Blackberry” around my neck so I can’t stand there checking e-mail and be pre-aggravated before I even get to the office. As far as I know at the moment I arrive at the bus stop things are the same way as I left them the night before. Even if something has hit the fan, I don’t know about it yet. It’s a serene ignorance that I relish.
In the evening, assuming I have no cause to rush home and the weather’s good the bus stop is again something to be savored. Sure I want to get home, but a few minutes to unwind with a book or with people-watching before boarding can be a good attitude reset after another nine or ten hours of whatever it is they paid me for on any given day. Sure there are days when everyone around me looks like they want to put a shotgun in their mouth even more than I do after a typical day at the office, but that at least lets me know I’m not alone. There are others out there who know the truth too. They know we’re all just faking it. You too, my reader-from-sometime-in-the-future are faking it at least some of the time. You know you are, oh yes you do. And as long as we're all standing here on this bus stop, waiting, in limbo, neither at home or at work, not here or there, nothing bad can happen. The collective pause button is pushed. We’re all trying to catch our breath at the end of the day or taking a last inhale of freedom before it starts.
Sometimes fate even throws you an extra bonus of a broken Metrocard reader when you get on the bus and you ride for free, unless you’re one of those poor lost souls on a monthly card. Me, I never touch those. I like the option of taking the subway/ferry route home and the occasional bonus of a free ride. But really, the best that most of us hope for is a peaceful commute without unusually heavy traffic and maybe an empty seat next to us. And then maybe a few cookies to drown when we get home.
Of course you can’t drown a cookie. Cookies aren’t alive (right?) But I think I’m drowning them when I hold them under the milk or the coffee and I see the bubbles come up, one two three four five up to maybe a dozen before they stop and you know the cookie is soft and filled with milk or coffee and ready to eat.
This, my friends, is something you think of while standing on a bus stop. Although in this case I didn’t think of it while standing on a bus stop, I thought of it while actually drowning a cookie and thinking I should get to writing my post about things that occur to one on a bus stop. So, here we are. I am writing, you are reading. Only you are not reading while I am writing, you are reading this sometime later. Hours, days, weeks, months, you’ll never know and neither will I. Does it matter? No. So why mention it?
I was standing on the bus stop tonight reading. Reading what? Doesn’t matter for the purposes of this exercise. Just know that I was standing there reading. There are days, many of them in fact, days during the tedious work week where the time I spend standing on the bus stop is the absolute best part of my whole day. In good weather, I quite enjoy a 10 or even 15 minute wait for a bus. You’re alone with your thoughts or something good to read (What? I told you already, it doesn’t matter) or with some amusing characters to entertain you and nobody making demands of you. You…
“Escuse me sir.”
A tourist of Hispanic descent interrupted my train of thought with that statement and then went to the doors of the express bus. The driver closed the doors in his face. The tourist shrugged, sighed, and came back to me.
“Escuse me sir, weech bus go to turd avenue?”
“You want the next bus stop over there” I said, pointing to my right. “These buses all go to Staten Island.”
“Thank you vury much sir.”
“No problem.”
Where was I? Oh yeah, alone with my thoughts. So on the bus stop, you’re alone with your thoughts and nobody making any demands of you. Most of the time. In the morning, the day has limitless potential. Standing on that bus stop is like that moment I remember hearing some major league pitcher describe as a moment of ultimate control. The pitcher said as long as he stood on the mound and held on to the ball nothing bad could happen. The minute he threw a pitch, all bets were off. Jim Bouton maybe? Doesn’t matter. Standing on the bus stop in the morning is the same thing. Work has not thrown the electronic leash known as “a Blackberry” around my neck so I can’t stand there checking e-mail and be pre-aggravated before I even get to the office. As far as I know at the moment I arrive at the bus stop things are the same way as I left them the night before. Even if something has hit the fan, I don’t know about it yet. It’s a serene ignorance that I relish.
In the evening, assuming I have no cause to rush home and the weather’s good the bus stop is again something to be savored. Sure I want to get home, but a few minutes to unwind with a book or with people-watching before boarding can be a good attitude reset after another nine or ten hours of whatever it is they paid me for on any given day. Sure there are days when everyone around me looks like they want to put a shotgun in their mouth even more than I do after a typical day at the office, but that at least lets me know I’m not alone. There are others out there who know the truth too. They know we’re all just faking it. You too, my reader-from-sometime-in-the-future are faking it at least some of the time. You know you are, oh yes you do. And as long as we're all standing here on this bus stop, waiting, in limbo, neither at home or at work, not here or there, nothing bad can happen. The collective pause button is pushed. We’re all trying to catch our breath at the end of the day or taking a last inhale of freedom before it starts.
Sometimes fate even throws you an extra bonus of a broken Metrocard reader when you get on the bus and you ride for free, unless you’re one of those poor lost souls on a monthly card. Me, I never touch those. I like the option of taking the subway/ferry route home and the occasional bonus of a free ride. But really, the best that most of us hope for is a peaceful commute without unusually heavy traffic and maybe an empty seat next to us. And then maybe a few cookies to drown when we get home.
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