The case for zen
Often when I travel on the bus and obtain a seat, I usually stare out the window. My thoughts take me elsewhere, so I am not really looking at anything. Andy calls this “some kind of zen state.” I recently decided to people watch on the bus instead, thinking I might be missing something. I saw the following:
- A fat guy reading a book about Jabba the Hutt. Sorry mate, you’re not getting a girl to prance around in a golden bikini for you. Unless you’re rich. Given your B.O., I don’t think that’s the case.
- A little Chinese lady who looked about 70 doing her best impression of Chris Pronger. Since she only stood about 4′10″, the only person’s head she hit was the poor sap sitting next to the door. Otherwise a small jab to the midsection with some pointy elbows and a 7Up bottle was her way of saying “excuse me.” Or maybe it was “7Up yours.”
- A guy who couldn’t stop changing seats and opening windows. He also told everyone beside him how much superior the 160 was over the 135. Except he didn’t change move greater than a 4 seat radius for 20 minutes.
- A woman who wouldn’t stop chewing gum with her mouth wide open. I swear she could’ve caught flies. Good thing I had my noise cancelling headphones on.
- Because the bus had to break hard to avoid hitting a car that cut it off, a few people who were standing were thrown around a bit. One particularly disgruntled woman started screaming at the bus driver from the back door, spewing forth various obscenities and questioning the driving ability of the man behind the wheel. After getting off at the next stop, she continued yelling at the bus as it pulled away. Anger management issues much?
I don’t think I’m missing anything. Zen it is.
July 29th, 2007 at 12:02 am
Most people on the bus seem to have developed quite fantastic coping mechanisms. While you may be basically cuddling with people you’ve never met before, as long as you never talk and never make eye-contact, you can just pretend that nothing is happening at all.
Given that, there’s a good 10-20% of the bus population who really should be schooled in the unspoken bus rules. (Move back. Don’t stink. Don’t be loud. Don’t take up too much space.)
The 320 (or “Milk Run Through The Lower Mainland”) is full of it’s fair share of hicks. 16-year-old kids with expensive, gaudy clothes and a ‘posse’ of ‘badasses’. Guys who work hard at the job site and then like to have loud conversations about all of the weed and sex that they’re about to have. One guy who put on enough cologne to almost kill Rob. Mothers ferrying about roughly enough progeny to populate an entire baseball team. Etcetera, etcetera.