Commuter Bus
Crammed in like batteries in a child’s toy, we board the bus, jockey for position, aisle seat or window, front or rear. We each have reasons for being where we are, jammed against each other, hip to hip. Only sometimes the reverie is interrupted by lunch line antics. A man at GPO has jumped the line and boarded first. A woman chastises him. I am afraid, on alert. Their exchange escalates: You gonna lecture me? I’ll do more than that, yes, sir. What, you threatening me? You gonna stab me? Mister, you don’t know who you are talking to.
The more I read this, the funnier it gets.