Continuing in my leg post streak, here’s a photo of a curious arrangement I found in a shopping window. I’m not sure if the choice of bodily parts plus the purse mean something, and I don’t want to know. However, I think it’s a great fit to my psychedelic bus story below.
The thing about buses is that once you get on, you can’t get off. It’s not like the train when you can always throw yourself out of the window when your travel mates are particularly taxing. I spent an hour on the bus in the tragicomic company of what turned out to be college girl students. It’s been a few days now and I’m still praying to the god who isn’t that they may not be students whom I teach.
The college girls produced a bottle of wine the first thing and started to pass it around. As they didn’t offer me any, though I was squashed in a seat next to theirs, I immediately disliked them. To start with, it was funny to eavesdrop on their talk (I didn’t particularly mean to eavesdrop, but they were too noisy to block out even with my earphones on). Then it got me terribly depressed.
Because a person commuting for two hours a day has nothing sensible to do during the commute, I naturally spent the trip judging them (feel free to judge me). The poor things were trying to hard to act as though they were having fun, but I was positive they were faking it. It was more angsty than cheery. Ultimately, it turned out to be simply stupid.
One of the college girls was musing aloud on the metaphysical question as to whether her nylon tights will get dry overnight when she launders them in the evening. While I do not undervalue the essential importance of this problem, it was the trail of her thought that saddened me. (Also, I braced myself from saying anything, but yes, your tights will be dry overnight, provided you wring them out properly.)
For one thing, she would normally dry her nylon tights in a dryer. In which case she can just toss them out after wearing and buy a new pair each time. It’s like drying your cat in the dryer. Neither the cat nor the nylon will be any better for it. Another thing, she concluded her deliberations with a heartfelt exclamation, If only someone invented a combo washer dryer! I said nothing but was half-tempted to invite the girl over to my place and show her mine. I could probably convince her that I own the first functional prototype of the combo washer dryer. She’d be thrilled.