Even though my bus stop is really only six blocks, today it feels like 15 miles.
It is a day I’d prefer the windows unrolled and the wind blowing my hair all over the place… regardless the freshly applied chapstick.
I know once I get to walking I’ll be okay, but today is that day… the day I miss my radio up too loud and all the windows wide open.
…I have learned, in my brief four weeks as a bus commuter, that I prefer riding on the left-hand side of the bus.
However, in July, when the sky is full of copious amounts of warm sunshine this makes an idea situation to start the dozing… and as I am terrible at NOT doing the doze-bob, I have decided this is an awful place for me to sit.
So as not to be jolted awake by smashing my forehead into the frame of the window… I will be sitting on the right-hand side of the bus, the duration of the warm months.
It’s a good thing I don’t bruise easily.
…there is a man at my bus stop wearing the most gorgeous pair of black and white Wingtip shoes.
If I were a much better dancer, I may wear a pair myself.
Music makes everything better. When one wakes up at 5:17 in the morning, with a song, filling the consciousness, it is essential to listen to that song immediately. Even if it is while you are walking to your bus stop. Don’t worry if you start dancing…
…you’re a Metro bus commuter.
Own it!
Ah, the early morning walk to the bus stop. Full of color and sunshine; the occasional passing car… sneezing and watery eyes… and mascara that runs itself half down your cheek before you even complete the 6 blocks to your anxiously awaiting stop.
I just want some rain!
And coffee…
There’s a secret comfort in knowing the next bus is right around the corner…. Even if it just isn’t a metaphor. Patience is a difficult thing to possess when you’re standing, awkwardly with a bunch of strangers; strangely lined up… along the freshly laid beauty-bark. The silence is deafening, and the sudden urge to laugh uncontrollably, is overwhelming.
This is why I cannot listen to music on the bus…for the sudden need and desire to bust out into song, with whatever is playing into my ears. There is a simple joy in singing out loud. Perhaps a tad creepy on the 312, at 7:47am…But nonetheless, therapeutic.. and awesome.
Erin's Bus Dailies 