So there I wasn't

So there I wasn’t

 RantWoman is around a couple people who complain they do not have time to pray. RantWoman is fond of telling such people that if they do not have tie to pray, perhaps they just have not spent enough time on the bus. RantWoman has ridden the bus in many cities, a few world capitals. RantWoman has ridden with live chickens and pet ferrets. As far as RantWoman knows no heffalumps and woozles.  RantWoman LOVES the bus. Regardless, it is ALWAYS time to pray on the bus.

 Friday, RantWoman had made her weekly trek to a mailbox near an old address and was happily headed back south on the E line chatting on the phone with RantMom

 “…Mom, we’re already past the Aurora Bridge. I will be downtown in a few minutes…”

 

Off the bus, walk a block to make a transfer in front of Benaroya. No performance means no concert crowd and no classical muzak at the bus stop. Never mind. RantWoman, a woman on a mission systematically to keep riding bus route segments currently on the possible chopping block, passes up the bus that merely goes near her house and waited for the one that goes straight to her door.

 

Silly RantWoman.

 

That means there were 3 hospitals and 2 “institutes for the legally challenged” between RantWoman and home. After RantWoman boarded, the bus was SRO past the second hospital. The number of personalities on board seemed approximately equal to the number of bodies; sometimes this cannot be assumed. Some of the personalities had enormous volumes of belongings though. RantWoman and Ambassador Thwack the White cane still managed to maneuver into a seat, and even a seat facing forward. Be grateful. Be very grateful.

 

It was the beginning of the month so people with substance abuse issues have money to buy their substances. Beer does not really improve bus legs,  a combination of balance, strap grip strength, and ability strategically to collapse one’s body temporarily into unoccupied space. Bus legs, among other things, keep standing passengers from falling into every lap the twists and turns of bus travel might direct them to. Okay, time to pray.

 

Also time to wriggle one’s hand to Smartphone. Twitter to text messages from@seattlePD: bus passenger grazed by bullet on bus route RantWoan had recently transferred off of. Far north of downtown. Sheesh. More gunfire. Say a prayer. The text said only “grazed.” Wish they were just talking about cows. Say another prayer anyway.

 

RantWoman realized from overhearing lots of conversations that she was riding with vast floods of information about lived homelessness. RantWoman was not necessarily grateful to swim in all those currents. Say another prayer. Be glad only to have one’s own problems. Say another prayer on that account. The women with enormous amounts of luggage were headed for a shelter. Eventually they decamped and the bus rounded one of its last turns to RantWoman’s home.

 

Ring, buzz.

 

Smartphone announced someone on RantWoman’s lists both of angelic troublemakers and night owls. Words passed of “due diligence” and “quality assurance” and standing to complain and the RantWoman had to disembark.

 

Home.  Cat fed. Purchases stowed. Email open. RantWoman either furiously pouring forth words or dozing. L A Theater works on radio. Play about autism and parenting. Striking.

 

Ring. Buzz.

 

Smartphone announced RantMom. It was late. RantMom should have been asleep and better yet in bed too. Suck in breath. Okay who is going to the ER?

 

RantMom: “…watching the news. Are you all right?”

 

RantWoman: “…I am fine Mom. I wasn’t there…I love you (I am so relieved no one from our family is headed to the ER) Big hugs. Sleep well.” RantWoman did not mention all the luggage or besotted riders. Just “I love you.”