As I rode the bus to school the other day, I thought about all the strange sights and sounds that one chances to encounter when taking part in the glorious tradition of public transportation. For instance, one Wednesday morning I sat down in the front of the bus in a seat the faces in. In the seat across from me was a rotund man wearing jeans and a windbreaker. Not so strange from that description, but this very hairy man was not wearing a shirt and the windbreaker was open. Suffice to say it was difficult to keep from staring. Five minutes into the ride, I realized he was sitting next to a pet carrier which made me a little nervous.
I have to say I prefer life to be as normal as possible. Anything too out of the ordinary makes me uncomfortable. I think a lot of it has to do with growing up in the Midwest. We like to keep to ourselves and go about our business as usual without drawing too much attention. However, when I step onto some form of public transportation those feelings melt away because I know even at my most insane, I will look normal compared to some of the specimens traveling about the metropolis. As my good friend and partner in culinary crime says, "I always feel like I'm in a sociological experiment."
While I tried not to stare at the natural sweater-wearing man with the purple pet carrier, I couldn't help feeling better about myself and wondering why he wasn't wearing a shirt. This made me reminisce about all the magic I've come across while riding public transportation. Once in Chicago I happened upon a group of Latino, Spanish-speaking trannies. The best part of that ride was that my travel companion having grown up in a shelter where everyone appears normal was so flabbergasted and uncomfortable. I on the other hand was excited to be in a city where such occurrences were considered mainstream, so much so that no one made a big deal except my friend. This past week I was in Boston for the annual Opera America Conference. While I took the T from the airport out to Boston University to meet a friend, I watched a deaf hipster girl sign. I'm pretty sure she wasn't with or signing to anyone in particular, but instead she was absentmindedly thinking "out loud." It made me wish I knew sign language so I could hear her.
These are the situations at the forefront of my mind, but there are many other gems.
Until next time.
--Caro
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