The Bus Ride

A peculiar thing, people are. 

This thought repeated through her mind as she sat on the bus, headed West.  She liked to say “headed West.”  It sounded mysterious and full of dark adventures.  In reality, she was headed to Ohio or Indiana or Illinois.  Which was West, so it wasn’t a lie.  It just didn’t have the same allure as saying, “headed West.”

The bus hummed along the interstate, its passengers nodding off to the steady rhythm of the wheels surfing the highway.  Or they were just pretending to nod off so they didn’t feel obligated to talk to each other.  The thought repeated itself and she agreed.

A peculiar thing, people are.

What was bringing her out West, you ask?  An excellent question.    She had business there, let’s leave it at that.  Let’s leave it sounding mysterious and full of dark adventures. 

She pretended to yawn and stretch, in order to get a better view of her travel companions. What she saw was neither shocking nor ordinary.

A peculiar thing, people are.

***

The seat next to her was empty.  Although the bus was almost filled to capacity, no one had decided to sit next to her.  She wondered if she should feel lucky or insulted.  A quick sniff test proved that her armpits were not offensive.  She had showered that day and her hair was clean.  She decided she would feel lucky.  Simple as that.

The closest person to her sat across the aisle.  This was the closest person in proximity, not in affection.  Just so we get that straight.  Squashed next to a rather large man who had started snoring before they left Port Authority in New Jersey, sat an older gentleman.  He was the only person on the bus she was sure wasn’t pretending to nod off – the large man, not the older gentleman that is. No person could keep that level of snoring up for so long.  Then again, you never know.

A peculiar thing, people are.

The older gentleman sat stiffly in his seat and looked straight ahead.  As if a rod was keeping him upright.  As if he was given a command to look nowhere else!  Only straight ahead!  Regardless of what you see or what you hear, never deviate from that directive, soldier!  That’s what he looked like to her, anyway.  She wondered if had seen battle.  Other than everyday life, that is.

Next to him, the rather large man snored on.

In front of the large man, along the window, sat a tall woman with an incredible amount of hair.  On her head, that is.  From this vantage point, she couldn’t tell if the woman was all-over hairy, or saved all of her hair for her rather large cranium.  This tall, hairy woman, had the over-head light on and was reading a magazine.

From the rather glossy pictures of blindingly white smiles, it was a pretty good guess that this was not a literary magazine. 

Every third page or so, the woman would dog-ear a corner of the magazine.  Her guess was that this woman was picking out styles for her over-abundance of hair.  But who knows.

A peculiar thing, people are.

Next to hair-lady, sat a man in a black fedora.  With a black band and red feather.  The hat, not the man.  It was impossible to tell his age since it was very clear he had more plastic in his face than Barbie and Ken.  Combined.  He was an interesting sort.

Neatly dressed, pressed, and ready to light your filtered cigarette, this man seemed at odds with the rest of his surroundings.  She wondered why he was taking a bus.  He looked to be the sort who drove in a white stretch limo and would rap on the divider between chauffeur and passenger with the end of a heavily embossed brass cane.  Not the sort who ride on a bus in to the night, headed West.

A peculiar thing, people are.

Directly in front of her sat a mother and child.  The child was on the aisle, and the mother took the window seat.  She was curious as to how that arrangement came about.  Kids usually wanted the window seat, even if it was pitch-black out.  Mother’s usually wanted their kids to have a window seat  too, that way no glassy-eyed, staggering maniac would snatch her baby.

Glassy-eyed, staggering maniacs are quite common on bus trips from New Jersey to out West.  She had read about this in the “General Safety Tips” brochure that was at the bus depot before they departed.  The section wasn’t titled “Glassy-eyed, staggering maniacs”, but that was for legal reasons.

She was still flummoxed as to how the seating arrangement came to be.  The mother obviously wanted her child to snatched by a glassy-eyed, staggering maniac, she decided.

A peculiar thing, people are.

She had only caught a glimpse of the people sitting in the rows behind her.  Even an artful yawn and stretch couldn’t yield a decent view.

This much she had seen: 

A woman two rows back sat with a soft carrier on her lap.  It was probably a very small puppy or a cat.  She couldn’t rule out the possibility of a research monkey, however.  She was doing her best to keep her eye on that crate.

A peculiar thing, people are.

A man three rows back and one over brought a guitar case on to the bus.  The driver had argued with him when boarding that the “bus was full-up, and there’s no room for musical instruments to be transported within the cabin.”  The passenger flatly refused to surrender his guitar case and the driver gave up.  She was convinced he was transporting contraband across the border.  His life depended on the safe delivery of said guitar case.  Only after this delivery was made, could he rescue his beloved from the hands of her kidnappers.

A peculiar thing, people are.

Next to our guitar case carrying hero, sat a plain looking woman in her 30’s.  Not unattractive, or attractive.  Almost see-through, really.  She would make longing sideways glances at the guitar case carrying hero, not minding that at every turn of the bus, the neck of the case would stab her in the shoulder.  She just knew he was the One.

A peculiar thing, people are.

The rest of the bus faded out in to blackness.  A few reading lamps remained on, a few coughs and grumbles were heard, but those were just sounds from the darkness. 

In front of her, she could see the glow of the dashboard, and the headlights of the oncoming traffic. 

She let out a sigh and placed her head against the cool window.  She was headed west.  For business.

A peculiar thing, people are.