Arriving with a passing glance over the shoulder, seeking the white rim of the large squealing bus with its neon green banner. A studious glance at the waiters...ipods in, eyes on the ground, hands shoved in pockets - occasional glance down the road for the same white rim. Curious about how long they've been there - whether it's worth waiting or whether walking would be better, seems to break the code of silence.
I ask.
one girl pretends to not see my lips moving in her direction through her blasting soundtrack. A guy looks at me, realizes I'm talking but considers turning his music louder - so I ask again, has the green line come yet? He stops his music, laboriously takes the headphone out of one ear and says "huh?" I repeat my question "dunno, been here a couple minutes." Headphone back in, eyes down, finger monotonously pushes play. Waiting resumes.
Wait, watch, eye the faces passing, trudging, skipping, jogging, leisurely strolling. Another waiter joins the crew of now four and stares at us, pondering whether she should wait or walk I'm sure. We stare in the same direction, heads cocked oddly at the distance, watching every non-white rim of every car, suv, and van as they proceed at a stop and go pace pausing for pedestrians and continuing on by, unnoticing of the waiters at the plexiglass hut.
Who made those rules? Why do we wait and stare and not speak and awkwardly all do the same thing and then all do the same shuffle as the bus approaches, side to side, forward then back, forward and glance - can I step ahead of this person, side to side, preparing hands to grip handles in the doorway, barely awknowledging those already on the bus who also did the standard wait. Sit and stare - knowing the route but staring as if something new might pass and anything to avoid the eyes of others.
Leave the bus past waiters who stand in a familiar fashion and eye the departing passengers waiting their turn.
Walk away, hear the bus - dismiss the experience, it was just a bus ride after all.
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