The most exciting part of my life, currently, is my blossoming relationships with people on the bus. Oh, we are getting to know each other so well! Sort of. Or maybe not.
There's a woman who I started seeing all the time in the early spring. She was probably around before that, but I only noticed her when she started wearing her yellow coat. Once I'd seen Yellow Coat, suddenly she was everywhere. On the bus with me to and from work. Out for a walk in my neighbourhood. At the grocery store. Now that it's a bit warmer, too warm for the yellow coat, I'll probably lose track of her. Unfortunately it was her only eye-catching feature.
There's a family consisting of a mom and three kids that I have learned to dread. The kids are always clean and impeccably dressed, but the mom always looks like she wishes she could jump on a bus and ride away without them. There is a girl around 8 years old, who does a lot of minding of her younger siblings. The middle child is a girl around 5 years old. She's usually pretty quiet. It's the youngest, a toddling boy, who's the hellion. As soon as I see them getting on the bus it's like counting from a lightening flash to the first thunderclap. One potato, two potato, three potato... and let the shrieking and writhing begin. Sometimes the mom smacks her son. Other times she simply holds his wrist in an iron grip and stares out the window as though willing herself into another life. I know nothing about parenting, so I'm in no position to judge this woman. Let's just say that I don't enjoy her kids any more than she does.
Finally there's a woman who I felt neutral about until this morning. Background: at my bus station, travellers queue up for their turn to board the bus. This doesn't happen at all bus stations in the city. At other stations, people form a disorderly mob, and push their way to the doors of the bus, using both elbows for leverage. But at my bus station we are civilized. This is not King and Bay (the heart of Toronto's wolfish financial district), this is the gentle almost-suburbs. There is one line for the front door of the bus and one line for the back door, and this lady has been taking that route long enough to know it.
This morning, when the bus pulled up, the lady in question was third in line for the front door. But that wasn't good enough for her. Quick as a flash, she beetled past the people ahead of her (one of them being me) and got in first. How rude! First because jumping a queue is inherently inconsiderate, as a matter of principle, and second because, really? You were third. You couldn't have waited for me and the person in front of me to get in? It would have taken seconds. Literally. *fumes*
Thank God for my iPod. Noise-reducing ear-buds save my sanity, and pleasant podcasters give me something positive to focus on.
Alright, I'll end on a happy note. There is a pretty young mother with a lovely little girl who ride the bus with me sometimes, and they always make me smile. The mom loves her child so deeply, and strokes stray curls off her forehead with such tenderness, that it gives me hope for humanity. They have no idea that I'm watching; they are absorbed in their own thoughts and their comfortable, warm bond. They'll never know how often they make my day.