22 June 2011

#66 Bus

A sign reads "Fascist Sidewalk Closed"—the word fascist having been added by nameless party. At least he spelled it correctly.

3 May 2011

#66 bus stop @ Kingsely Street:

While I am waiting for the bus, a man walks down the sidewalk in front of me and runs directly into a tree. He very slowly backs up, fixes his hair, and moves on without the slightest hint that he knew I had seen or that he had not meant to do it.

11 April 2011

#57 bus, inbound:

A girl in a purple tank top talks animatedly on her phone. Less than five feet away, a man listens to his iPod and looks out the window. For almost 10 minutes, they ride together, neither acknowledging the other. At Beacon Street, the girl exits at the front of the bus while the man exits at the back door. Only after they step off the bus to they make eye contact. With an exclamation of surprise, the girl says, "I can't believe it! We missed each other again!" suggesting that this is not an uncommon occurrence. They exchange a few pleasantries and head in opposite directions.

9 April 2011

Red line, inbound:

On normal days (in normal cars) the distribution of people is approximately even—everyone spreads out to give everyone else equal space. Tonight, however, is not a normal night. And this is not a normal car. To my left, there are very few people, despite the train being crowded. A passenger who suddenly liked the music playing from his headphones a little too much has been break dancing in the aisle for the last three minutes and show no signs of stopping.

To my right, a man boards and slowly makes his way to the only vacant seat. I notice that people are giving him an abnormally wide berth, but cannot make out the reason why until I notice that his pet parrot is perched on his shoulder. When the man sits down, his bird climbs off the man's shoulder and into the crook of his arm after which the two promptly fall asleep for the remainder of my trip.

23 March 2011

#66 Bus - Inbound

A woman sits holding her extremely agitated son. He is perhaps 3 years old and does not cease to scream for the duration of the bus ride. For her part, the mother is frustrated but patient—firm but loving—in her treatment of what looks to be an extremely difficult situation.

We get off at the same stop. The woman attempts to walk with her son, but every few steps, he heaves himself on the ground and wails uncontrollably. During one of these tantrums, the mother attempts the walk-away, pretending to leave her son behind so that he will decide to follow. In response, the child leaps up and runs directly into Commonwealth Avenue (which, for those who don't know, is an extremely busy street at all times of day). The mother and I simultaneously, from opposite directions, sprint toward her son, waving off cars and drawing attention to him so that he doesn't get hit. We arrive at approximately the same time and she spends several moments trying to convince me that she's not a bad mother. I need no convincing as she has demonstrated patience above that which I would have been able to display in the same situation. After the encounter, I go back to the stop to wait for my connecting bus, and the mother walks away carrying her son firmly in her arms. He's still crying.

29 December 2010

Park Street Station:

I have sworn no fewer than 5 times at my 80 lbs of luggage that I've had to drag from transfer to transfer, from line to line (and which, I was just realizing, due to the hour, I would have to drag home instead of taking the bus which doesn't run past midnight). While waiting for the Alewife train to arrive and take me to Harvard Station, a couple on the other side of the tracks arrives. The guy carries a pizza box from which the girl takes a slice which she alternately consumes and feeds to the guy. Eventually they are approached by a (probably homeless) man. He does a double take at the pizza, stops, and says:

"Hey, can I have a slice of that?"

"Sure thing, brother," the guy replies. "Help yourself."

The homeless man watches as the pizza box lid is lifted, revealing a nearly whole pie. He reaches for a slice, but pauses momentarily.

"... Is it good?"

"Yes," they reassure him, "it's delicious."

Sufficiently satisfied with that answer, the man then takes a slice, thanks the couple multiple times, and walks off. It was a funny, quiet reminder to me that having a little more than I can conveniently carry is still infinitely better than being able to carry much more than I have.

2 December 2010

#66 Bus at Beacon Street:

The bus leaves the stop and moves forward several feet to stop at the red light. When the cross-traffic light turns yellow, he begins to inch out into the intersection. Simultaneous with the turning of his light comes a knock at the door. A man is standing in the middle of the street asking to be let in. The driver grumpily open the door and lets the man in who quickly proclaims, "One more coming!" and waves to the woman on the sidewalk.

At this, the driver reacts with anger: "No no no no no no. That's not how it works!"

He closes the door and drives away, leaving the woman standing about six feet away from the bus in the center of a lane of traffic. The man immediately pulls out his phone to call her with a sort of half-panicked look in his eye. Before the call connects, however, the bus pulls over at the next stop. The man hesitates, stands up, sits down, and stands up again, wondering whether he should get off and go back. In the end, he jumps to his feet and runs off the bus.