None of it is important, of course.
It seems I’m finally getting the commute routine down. To be honest, I think it’s all just random luck. For the first week of my taking public transit to work from the new home (after 2 months of scootering), the bus was late every day. The schedule said one should arrive every 7-8 minutes, but I was waiting 20+ minutes.
And going home, where I board the bus just one stop after the route starts (so you’d think it would be more punctual) I would arrive to find that a bus had just gone by (2 minutes earlier than scheduled) and then I’d wait another 10-15 minutes.
But this week I’ve been right on time in both directions (so far). It figures that when the weather is warmer, I’m not stuck standing outside as long as I am when it was in the 20′s and windy.
Still, despite today’s warmth, the driver found it necessary to have the heat blasting the entire ride. Within seconds I removed my gloves. Within a minute or two I removed my jacket. If public decency allowed, I’d have removed more, trust me.
In the middle of my ride, over my iPhone blaring some Natasha Bedingfield, I heard some screaching. I looked down to my left and saw a car stuck in traffic next to the bus. And then I saw the front end of a 1970′s esque van ram into that car’s bumper. Now, this was in heavily congested Porter Square during morning rush hour. How the hell the van gathered enough speed to cause such a lengthy break squeal is beyond me.
So, back to the warmth on the bus. It was at this time that I also noticed that my window was fogging up around my arm (which I had been leaning against the glass to cool down). I looked around the bus and it was only my window that had fogged up. I’m such a freak. It confounds me how much heat my body gives off sometimes.
As we pulled away from the accident, I saw another car pull up beside the bus. It was a BMW and inside was the most petite 30-something woman. She was so short that her seat was pulled up as close to the steering wheel as possible so she could reach the pedals. Despite being stick thin, the steering wheel was at her belly. This made me realize that it must really suck to be a short AND fat person. I mean, I wonder if such a shape can prohibit some from being able to drive at all (unable to reach the pedals, and unable to turn the wheel because it’s squeezed against their belly)?
And that was my commute.
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