There's a monotony associated with commuting. It's written across the face of every commuter. Rarely does one notice someone who is not sporting a glazed, half-asleep look. Part of it is because, well, let's face it, most people don't WANT to go to work. Most want to stay snuggled in their beds beneath warm covers, wake up naturally instead of from the screech of an alarm clock, and pour themselves a nice hot cup of coffee or tea whilst catching up on the news of the day still in pajamas and cozy slippers... but they're not. Instead, loaded like cattle, we commuters load into a bus or train, and make our way to the salt mines. (Okay, so I've used this term many times before and yet never knew its significance. Well, apparently it IS as crappy as it sounds. From Wikipedia "salt mining in the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany was performed by persons being punished." Nazi's AND Soviets! Christ, that's rough, and now I feel as though I should NEVER use the term "salt mine" to describe my job. It's about as hard as petting kittens all day in comparison to mining salt as a punishment for being HUMAN (the Nazis and Soviets were assholes when choosing people fit for punishment))
As I was saying, commuting is, generally speaking, crappy. It certainly has its interesting moments. I mean, hell, I have a decent (but not very well updated) blog occasionally discussing it. Yesterday, I experienced one such "interesting" moment. As many of you are aware, it's cold outside. Not as cold as it will eventually get (oh yes, it will get colder. It will get bone-crushingly cold. Your fingers will ache and your tears will freeze to your cheeks when that wind slaps you across the face *OVER DRAMATIC but true*), but still chilly. With cold weather comes heated buses. I've come to the realization that there are two settings to bus heat: blast furnace and ice maker. Yesterday we were on blast furnace mode. I just blinked repeatedly to prevent my eyes from drying out and found a seat.
This is where things took a turn. The seat I chose was situated above a heating vent. Every time the vent decided to blast, the WHOLE seat vibrated. Because the heat was CRANKING, the seat vibrated A LOT. The woman next to me seemed to be in a coma. The bus was packed, so even getting up and out of the seat wasn't an option. I was essentially riding a bus with magic fingers, but it was neither the time NOR the place (but it was probably just as dirty). Seriously, the last place anyone wants to feel a low-down tingle is a bus. Unless you're a pervert. Luckily, after the initial shock wore off, the vibration only served to make my ass go numb. I would have moved to another seat otherwise, because, like I said, I'm not okay with that.
As I got off the bus, I felt even more dirty than usual, not Silkwood shower dirty, but rather unclean. I turned to look back as the bus pulled away. I knew then that the bus would never be the same again. We would never be okay... (actually, I'll ride it like always because I have to. I'll just never sit in that seat ever again.)
No comments:
Post a Comment