#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.
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.
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