I was raining Friday morning, which always adds an extra level of chaos to public transportation. Suddenly there are wet umbrellas to contend with–if not sitting on the seat you’d like to have, then brushing up against your legs as you stand trying desperately (if you’re a decent person) to keep your own umbrella from dripping onto the person sitting in front of you. I let an older lady into the bus ahead of me and followed her to a two-seater that was miraculously empty. She looked around and asked no one in particular, “No one wants to sit here? Is there something wrong with it?” I chuckled and followed her into the seat, and she said, “There’s usually a reason when it’s completely empty.” Thinking of my experience with empty stinking train cars, I nodded in agreement without hesitation.
She told me she usually doesn’t take the bus because it’s slower but wanted to be picked up closer to home because of the rain, and I indulged her chatter briefly but then pulled out my Kindle before she could become too attached and try to show me pictures of her grandkids all the way to work. (It’s happened.) She took the hint and occupied herself with staring out the window. At 14th Street, a woman with two beastly children boarded and sat the kids together in one seat right behind me, which I’m sure was a joy for the person in the other seat right next to them. One of the kids, a girl, was whimpering about someone or something named Tony; in a low moan right next to my ear, she kept repeating, “I want Tooooooooooooooooooony.” And her mother was doing nothing about it.
, which makes Apples to Apples seem as dull as Go Fish.
