It wrinkles up your face,
And when it’s gone, you never find
Its secret hiding place.”
I thought to myself, what a bunch of interesting characters.
I turned to my friend and said, “These characters would make an interesting CBC or BBC show.” My friend smiled and agreed.
However, it wasn’t as if they were doing anything news-worthy. They just looked interesting.
At the same time, I worried about not wearing a mask. The blonde woman kept coughing into her sleeve. I think her sleeve was drenched by the time she got off the bus.
Suddenly, I found that I couldn’t move my feet. I wasn’t having a stroke or anything like that. No, my lace got attached to a hook on one of my boots. So, I had to do some subtle squirms and foot twists as I tried to disentangle my boots.
People were beginning to take note.
The man with the walker was now looking down at my boots. So was the man with the belly and the sleeve cougher. I was now hoping that many of the bus characters were firmly embedded in their virtual world and were too busy snacking on social media tidbits of almost important information, to pay any attention to me.
“How close are we to our stop?” I asked my friend, as I grunted and bent. I wasn’t bothering to hide my actions now because it was, frankly, too late. I also realized that I was entertaining this crowd. This was what made their bus-ride addictions so worthwhile.
“If we stop and you can’t get off, you can just stay on the bus until the next time the bus gets to our stop,” my friend joked.
Part of the reason, I was struggling so, was because I was in a bit of a panic. I get clumsy when I’m in a dither. I’m not super mechanical anyway, and there’s a reason why two different bosses at two different factories suggested that I should look for alternative vocations. I actually almost destroyed a photo processing business.
Anyway, I finally managed to get my boots separated just before our stop.