Commuter

WHINING ALERT! PUT IN EARPLUGS NOW!

The time has come that I am sick of my commute. Its just too long and too uncomfortable. It starts out ok. Its beautiful to wake up while the sky is just turning pink and see it turn blue again. Pilar and I move in synchrony making breakfast and then we pray together. She crosses herself and arches her back so that it cracks, and I mutter something about nature and look reverantly out the window. I walk the four blocks to the bus and everything looks pale and clean and empty. The first bus isn't bad at all but all hope is lost by Floresta. I'm just sick of the curves and the winding roads and the danger. By the end of riding the metro to high school it was the same, there was no thrill of the rebirth out of the tunnel by Takoma, no joy at new graffiti. And the Floresta is the same way now. We round the curve of a bridge and the Andes spread before us and sun dries clothes and flowers bloom and all I can think about is stretching my legs.

Third bus is worse. Much poorer people so I feel awkward listening to music, this is clearly not a crowed that has ipods. I mostly listen to the same songs over and over or else the Rolling Stones, both of witch help me appreciate the scenery by reminding me that daily life can be beautiful. But that bus too is too long. By the time we clear Tumbaco I'm ready to be there, by the time we get to "La Y" that's the start of Puembo I'm late, by the time we pass the third high school I'm standing, antsy to go, and everyone is looking at me because they don't have ipods to fidget with.

And then back, opposite direction, more sweaty, less optimistic. Sagging. Bent a little bit.

And so today, leaving work early to go to school for an orientation was almost worse because it broke up my commute. Instead of something to just get through, it was 40 minutes of baking in the sun about to be late for the orientation. This was followed by the 2 hours of class about how to be safe in the Galapagos and not touch the animals. Then I ate some frozen yoghurt. Then I ate an empanada. Thennnnnnn I had to get on the Floresta going the oppposite direction to the Floresta starting-place. I got on a Floresta in the proper direction and we had one of those drivers that I love but should really not exist. He's the type of guy that will let any and all people on. The bus has 25 actual seats and five or so that they sweeze around the lump the engine creates by the driver. 5 more can stand comfortably, 8 is pushing it. There were twelve people standing when we pulled out of Cumbaya, and five more got on as we twisted our way home.

And then, untieng ourselves, I ran to my final bus that was stopped for passengers in a roundabout, getting honked to hell. I've got that agression that gets you on busses, and I was so intent on grabbing and shoving myself in that I didn't notice that I was pushing a lady with two kids out of the way and that the bus driver had stopped for real and was patiently pointing out that I could enter through the back door.

Sheepish, I grab a seat and wade through traffic until my corner. I walk back paranoid because its dark outside but nothing happens and nothing has. I spook easy though and my steps are fast. A man, a black man, stops to pick somehting up from the sidewalk and I'm sure that's him stopping to get behind me to rob me. He looks at me, as I try to not have that happen and sometimes, wow, I just want to gouge out my eyes so I don't have to make eye contact with anybody. He knew. He knew that I saw him for a black man waiting to rob and not a fellow grabbing a nickel from the concrete. My fault. I've been judging things at light speed all day. It's no excuse, but at least I understand why I did it.