I must admit, I miss Chatty Bob, but I suppose a guy needs a couple of days off every 9 months or so. I’m sure the lady misses him too. She is wearing the same placid smile on her face, with the same brown handbag on her generous lap, but there is something different about her today. The way she is rolling her umbrella between her palms slowly and deliberately. I don’t think she knows what to do with herself.
Our substitute driver is all business. From my seat, I see him clearly in the rear view mirror. The mirror the drivers use to keep an eye on us. I would cast him as a Russian mobster. In the scene where he is choking the life out of some poor bastard, the steely expression I see in the rear view mirror would please the director. Bob, on the other hand, could play the lead singer in a mockumentary about a Meatloaf tribute band. The lady…hmmm. Definitely a TV sitcom. Her name is Darla, and she has a daughter heading off to college. Since Darla’s husband dumped her for a 20-yr old girl who works at the Wash ‘n Fold, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She decides to go back to college and through a series of unlikely events, she and her daughter become roommates. Hilarity ensues.
I don’t remember where I was going with this. These gray, rainy days have been oppressive. It feels like I am walking around in classic film noir surrounded by shadowy figures. I shall not be taking the #54 for five whole days, but would be surprised if anyone here notices my absence. We have all been walking around in the fog, and I am just another shadowy figure.
“She wears a black raincoat and always sits in a middle seat near the exit. Like clockwork, she places her messenger bag on her lap, unzips it and pulls out an iPhone. She first moves her eyes from one group of passengers to the next, sometimes pausing to study one individual more carefully than another. For the most part, she appears to type or text on her tiny screen, as though she is taking notes…as though she is writing stories about us.”