Foreboding eyes warn quickly, then release to the mist forming skin on the windows.
You cannot see from the outside world, how we are packed in an orderly fashion, row upon row: some sitting - some standing with arms reaching to the sky as if pleading to God, send us 5 more commandments.
But they are merely holding on for dear life, because the driver on shift today hates his job and hates the scum of the earth he has to contend with. He hates the smell of whiskey and being short changed and having to make schedule deadlines .... and yellow lights. So he brakes hard, dead stop, as two passengers drop to the ground, knees buckling against baby strollers and wheelchairs amassing flags of Green Peace and Save Tibet.
He is haggard, the interior even worse. It reminds him of years of abuse, battered fist fights, blood and guts, disorderly conduct, puke and piss. And that was only half of the clients I traveled with in the 20 minute long ride to Newton Exchange, where I now have to to transfer to the most notorious route of all, Surrey Central #321.
It is not unusual to have strangers fall asleep on your shoulder, nor converse with you and you and the other you, or have empty beer cans roll between your feet, rattling from seat to seat - Surrey pre-trial clients boasting how they only received 6 months probation and no jail time, custody battles, hard luck stories all accentuated with being wrongly accused and cheap perfume.
The majority clearly have no dental plan, or deodorant, but proclaim a scholarly genius of all worldly woes.
I keep my eyes peeled to the skin on the window - no contact. Contact would open up another story.
Thou shalt give up your seat for the pregnant and elderly.
Thou shalt give up your seat for the pregnant and elderly.
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