We walk towards the bus stop.
We don’t know when a bus will arrive. We will wait. Waiting
is okay. Watching a bus depart as we approach the bus stop is not okay.
There is a timetable displayed. I ignore it. As we wait
other people arrive and wait. We take it in turns to glance up the road. Then we all see a large, bulky, steadily bus
moving relentlessly towards us.
No hurry to board the bus. We know it will wait for
everyone. After boarding we have to choose a seat. After boarding I have a
quick squizz around the passengers. They having a sneaky squizz at us people
boarding. If there were no empty seats I
would have to sit next to someone. Who could it be?
With my grandkids they always want the same seat. The very
back seat. It is high and wider. They can sit and survey everybody on their
bus.
The bus driver drives nonchalantly. Seemingly unaware that he
just missed that car. Going around that corner she seemed a bit close. She is oblivious
to all his near misses.
Sitting on the back seat we have a good view of the other
passengers.
A guy with headphones singing loudly. Singing as if home in the shower.
A lady with two kids. A fussy mother hen. Fluffing and
clucking to her kids. Sit down here. Don’t stand. Don’t throw that packet.
An older lady. Protecting her enormous bag as if it contains
crown jewels. Her clothes are either from or are going to an op shop.
A lady with a pram. She maneuvers the pram and holds it to prevent
it rolling. She smiles as she leans and tickles her baby. She loves her child.
A gaggle of young school kids with heavy school bags. Talking incessantly. Peripatetic arms.
A man in a suit with a brief case. Two stories bubble up and
emanate from him. His car is being
repaired due to an accident. He has lost his license due to drink driving. I won’t
ask him which story is true.
A young female wearing a t-shirt telling me a band she
likes. My shirt doesn’t talk to her. My shirt tells her that I am boring. I could go and tell her my favourite band.
A man closes his eyes and lies his head back. His wife peers
at him and smiles to herself. She thinks about how much she loves him.
In front of me a lady continues her phone conversation. She is inviting me to listen to her
conversation. I imagine the person she is talking to. Going by everything she
says it is female friend. They are talking about what happened last weekend and
what it means when he says, “I like you a lot.”
An older man walks past me, bends over and says, “The zip on
your bag is open. Stuff can fall out.”
I nod and do up the zip.
My grandkids become aware that there is a button they can
press. I wait for someone to press the “Next Stop” button and see the sign
light up. I then say to Kay, “Show me how to press the button.”
Kay presses the button and says, “You’re the best
grandfather I’ve ever had.”
At the next stop some people alight through the rear door.
Some from the front door. They all say, “Thank you.”
I say to Kay, “They are all thanking you for pressing the
button.”
We look down on all the cars containing one person. All the
cars united by the road and separate from each other. A lady is on her I-phone.
She is communicating with somebody. Maybe in Sydney or Europe or USA. Maybe even
someone in Hobart.
I peer back down at the cars. I hope to see a politician caught in the traffic.
Hopefully one who sees traffic as a problem? Hopefully one who wants to spend my
taxes to build a tunnel or a by-pass. Unfortunately I don’t see any politicians.
I see two cars both thinking a precious parking spot belongs
to one of them. One of them will have to give up. One of them will drive on. One
of them will think parking their car sums up their
day.
I peer back down at the cars. Hermetically sealed bubbles
that stop, start and crawl.
Sitting by themselves the drivers all look incredibly
unhappy. They all behave as if invisible.
I look around the bus at all the people and see why the car drivers are
all so unhappy. They are missing out. They are missing out on humanity.
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