October 5, 2005
I have spent two hours a day, Monday through Friday commuting with the New York City Transit System starting thirteen years ago. My nose has been in a book or the newspaper for a better part of that time. The other day I lifted my head and discovered the most wonderful source of entertainment, my fellow commuters.
And so begins "The Hours Before 9 and After 5."
Place: A Staten Island bus leaving the ferry terminal at 5:45 pm
I sat on the bus, waiting for the line to finish getting on. The last passenger, an older lady, took the longest to board the bus. She had her grocery cart with her. After several people helped her load the cart, I was able to see through the bag enough to realize what her shopping order consisted of four gallons of milk, two tomatoes and two chocolate cakes. Not sure what those ingredients make.
She finally sat down, handed her Metro Card to a younger passenger to walk over and pay for her and we took off.
The first stop, four more passengers board the bus. The first three got on and sat down, as the older gentleman took his time getting on. A seat was cleared for him in the front, a few feet away from the lady.
As the bus pulled off the curb, The following conversation took place:
Lady: "Could we get some air in here?"
Man: "Why don't you just stop breathing so heavy?" (chuckles to himself.)
Lady: "Shut up old man."
Man: "Okay, mom!" (laughs to himself again)
Lady: (rolls her eyes)
Man: "Hey Grandma, it's a bitch to get old."
Other passengers: Nothing is said, not a peep. Everyone is way too busy trying to not laugh.
I begin to wish I was the lady sitting in between them, who clearly didn't speak a word of English and had no trouble not laughing because of it.
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