New life forms on the bus

A gross homeless man is on the bus. Did he pay more? I ask because adult lice should be required to pay something. Fascinating that the smell of the homeless man is so different from taxicab stench. There is perspiration smell and then there is raw sewage smell. As a NYer, no matter how bad it gets I’m not getting off to wait another fifteen minutes for another bus. I would take a cab but I try to limit myself to one unreimbursable cab ride per day (this morning, one appeared right before my eyes and it was a cultural imperative to hop in). I’m feeling a little faint. I wonder if I got into a gross cab, would the smells cancel each other out or would the synergies create an explosive effect. So I decided to sit down. Of course next to the older woman with a urine smell “issue”. I’ll brave it out because my mom z”l wore Depends at the end of her life.  Some woman sat down near the gross homeless man and started looking around for the source of the smell. Helloooooooooo. A few minutes have passed now and she has changed her seat. She and her seat are forever changed. Now a new aroma: sauteed-onion-in-a-plastic-bag smell. A lunch not eaten. A bacterial warfare agent created. A new life and all its complexities. A beautiful moment.  Some of that could be haiku.

Heard on the bus

Heard on the bus: “I’m not on the track team anymore — all that runnin’. I’m  doing gymnastics. My grandma had a stroke and either she is upset and not  talking or maybe something is wrong with her brain now. I don’t know.”  The civilization is rounding the drain.

 

Life in the gym

No scary episodes in the locker room so far today although it could have been the “I have mace, so back off” look [note to any law enforcement personnel reading this, I don’t carry mace], so I wasn’t the person to be near. Then I got this prurient fascination with trying the naked saunter myself, but I wasn’t sure my breast were perky enough and I wasn’t confident of the bikini shave status and really, it is NOT me. But I did want to feel what it was to be cell phone and blackberry free, although I suppose I could hold them between and under my breasts, but that isn’t really what the naked in the locker room “thing” is about. But then again, I did see naked women with cell phones so they probably don’t think they’re naked or vulnerable. These emotions they would feel if fully clothed without a telecommunications device.  As I delve into this, it is more textured and nuanced than I originally imagined. More thought is necessary.

Big 1950s hair curlers being used at the gym. She was not naked, though so I guess that’s ok.

 

 
Ok, so I’m back in the locker room. Another naked woman is walking around. No shock there. But she is wearing a birth control patch. Too much information. Maybe we should all tattoo personal information on our bodies so that strangers can know intimate details. That way we don’t have to scream into our cell phones in public places. We can just strip.

 

More tales from the transit life in NY

I decided to indulge in self-preservation and limit my interaction with humanity. Essentially, I flipped a coin between the bus and a cab. A balance of diffuse humanity (a bus) or potentially pungent, up-close humanity (a cab). Cab won (two-headed coin works every time). Perfectly. Pleasant trip — no odors of any kind (a huge plus), no radio (can never be sure it’ll be soooooothing music) and no speed of light/through stop signs spiritedness. (Now, as you all may remember, I live in a diverse and economically mixed neightborhood.) So as I reflecting on the surprisingly pleasant cab ride, I look out the window and up — and see about six pairs of boxer shorts hanging on the fire escape getting that fresh air scent from drying al fresco (ok, it HAS BEEN RAINING FOR NINE DAYS). So, the morals of the story are (i) give up, humanity always finds you, (ii) pray that when you are selling your already devalued apartment for which you pay hefty mortgage payments, potential buyers don’t look up, and (iii) forget about falling bricks –worry about some stranger’s handwashed (not even scalded in boiling water) underwear coming down on your head.

Ah, a typical day on the road to Utopia.

Strangers sharing a sad, life moment

The M4 goes up Madison Avenue past Mt. Sinai hospital. Many people on the bus get out at the stop near the hospital. I am sitting across from a 20-something year old who answered her phone and then I overheard saying that she was on her way to the hospital. As I looked up, I saw her lip quiver and her eyes water. It is odd to share a moment with a stranger — our eyes met as hers welled up and I didn’t look away immediately although I probably should have to give her privacy. She is cupping her hand over her cell phone. Now, she is getting off the bus at “the stop”. Life.

Beauty

I would just like to say that there is a woman with a gorgeous, fit body at the gym. I am tempted to ask her how much time she works out a day, although some of it is just her genes. Beauty like that is an accident of nature.

More tales from the transportation system

I am the poster child for tough personal space laws. Here is why::

Reason no.1: There are three adolescent girls, with clearly a lot of their parents’ disposable income for their every whim, chatting loudly, gesticulating wildly and clearly talking about the sandals of the women on the bus in Spanish. Since my Spanish is not the best, I had to rely on eye contact and glances, etc. as the basis of my suspicions. Based on the shopping bags were from stores that made me think their parents were diplomats or ex-pat business people. Good that they are being taught values by having to ride the bus.

Reason No. 2: Elderly man and woman struggle onto the bus, all seats are taken and no one gets up (I already standing). Then, someone gets up to exit the bus and a too-well-groomed-but-my-shoes-are-not-quite-right-so-it-is-obvious-I-am-wearing-my-entire-net-worth-on-my-body woman listening to an iPod takes the seat. Is there a crisis intervention counselor on the bus? Fortunately, she notices what is happening around her and gets the f+++ up. Did you know that there are bridge crossers on all major bridges leading into Manhattan? It is because sometimes people freak out and can’t drive across a bridge. We need Bus Rangers to get everyone to their respective destinations. Ok I need my very own Bus Ranger to protect the humanity that surrounds me from my going postal.

Reason No. 3: the stupidest phone conversations since the beginning of time. This is one we can all understand, I think.

Reason No. 4: a guy made a clearing his throat noise with a hint of future, actual spitting action. In fact, he didn’t do anything with it outside his mouth although the imagery is making me sick.

More bus stories

Things noticed on public transportation:
Many men have bald spots. Everyone is talking on a cell phone or has an iPod. Jean jackets are being worn by people of all ages. If a couple is dressed casually, the man is way more sloppy, unless both are doing the grunge/fishnet stocking thing and then the girl looks like an alien. People don’t look in the mirror before leaving the house. It is too early to wear sandals. Clothes in store windows are not for human use. No one smiles when walking and no one strolls — not even the retirees. Some men shouldn’t wear English cut (two vents) or Italian cut (narrow; no vent). They should stick with two button, single vent. Who thinks it is a good idea to sit on a city street while waiting for the bus? Some people should not eat calzones in public.

transportation

I am in a cab. Passenger cabin air quality not optimal. Speed and altitude acceptable. (Flying through a red light was certainly invigorating if petrifying.)

Perspective

So, I decided to run to the office today because there are no clients expected in the office and I had already spoken to a few clients early in the morning (G-d bless blackberries and cell phones notwithstanding my prior entries) and I knew no one would get back to me until later in the afternoon. I ran by the Hudson River, listening to music that makes you want to fling yourself out of a window and feeling sorry for myself. I saw all of these people sunbathing and reading the paper and I thought, “don’t you know our whole financial system is teetering on the edge?” They did not look like they were laid off because they didn’t have that I-am-on-an-IV-drip-of-Ativan look. They were calm. I ramped up the fling-yourself-out-the-window (FYOTW) music with Carly Simon’s songs about losing her mother and Tracy Chapman’s songs about doing everything for unworthy lovers. Then, I past the Sanitation Department site and thought wow this is worse than working as a barista in Starbucks when Starbucks was new and clean.  Then I kept running (ok limping) until I turned off the path in the 40s. I saw the most peaceful demonstration across the street from the People Republic of China’s consulate. The demonstration alleged torture and cruelty to members of Falun Gong. Homeless people were entranced by the serenity and silence of the protesters. So was I. Then I past construction workers who didn’t notice me because they are more polite these days (and NOT because I am 45). At a red light, I was privy to an intimate and heart-wrenching tid-bit about a seemingly not-quite-right older woman trying to hold onto her room in an apartment and her mother and sister being very distressed about the situation. Then the light turned green and the smell of Port Authority accosted me. Is this how bus travelers first experience New York? Calling Mayor Bloomberg!!!!!!