Digging for Gold on the Bus

When you take the bus to work every day, you quickly learn how to choose a seat wisely.  However, this implies that there is an available seat for you to actually sit in.  About half of my bus rides are spent standing while trying to touch as little as possible, which becomes difficult because you need to hold on to something lest you fall onto the disgusting bus floor (I'm sure if that calamity does happen you're either minutes away from dying due to a slow and painful flesh-eating disease you just contracted or a hot shower).

I chose my seat very poorly this morning.  My decision process isn't overly complicated and it usually serves me well, but today served as evidence that you can't win 'em all. 

It goes something like this:

1. Are there any open seats in the back?  If yes, move towards the back of the bus (since that is what you are supposed to do instead of just plopping down into the first seat you see only to cause a people jam by the door).

2. Where would you have the most room?  The lady carrying her purse, her lunch, her laptop, her carry-on suitcase, and her boxful of God-knows-what does not bode well as a bus partner nor does the man taking up two seats.

3. Assuming this is your lucky day so far and you have an abundant choice of open seats with plenty of room to properly sit the whole way on the seat instead of only half of your one butt cheek hanging on...then you choose by an elimination process that I have termed "Who looks the most normal?".  (No matter the bus route or the time of day, it always happens that I am never one of the first few people able to get a window seat.)

The last criteria is the toughest one of all.  It requires lightning quick thought-processing time and reaction skills.  Tsk, tsk you say.  Judging a book by it's cover?  That's so not right.

Yes, it's not right, but when times are tough and seats are scarce, it's what you must do if you want a peaceful commute.  I've overheard many curse-filled arguments and witnessed pushing struggles because people are exhausted and cranky going in to work and being on a smelly bus that's always running late and full of assorted characters doesn't really help matters.  I thought I was exposed to different walks of life just by going to a public high school, but taking public transportation gives you a much larger variety and perspective.  I have seen my share of kindnesses happen on the bus too, but it's an extreme rarity...like the odd man out who might actually give up his seat for a woman.  I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen that happen and I've been taking the bus for seven months.

Anyway...for those of you unfamiliar with the bus's seating chart, there are typically four seats in the very back... one pair on either side.  Both of the window seats were taken, so I chose the seat next to the man merely looking at his phone instead of the man with music blaring from his ipod earbuds. He seemed innocent enough. 

I got my book out of my backpack and proceeded to read.  After a few minutes, I noticed his hand reaching up to his face out of my peripheral vision.  I didn't think anything of it at first until I realized that this wasn't a scratch and his hand was still up there.  He was blatantly picking his nose on the bus.  Not a casual wipe across the bottom of the nose.  I put my book down and fully turned towards him for a second to confirm my suspicion.  Yup, I was right.  I turned back to my book and tried to read but I was too grossed out to concentrate.  I looked around to see if anyone else was paying attention and I caught a death stare from another passenger.  Great.  I pointedly sighed but the man was either oblivious to my passive aggression or he didn't care.  I thought about sighing again, only louder this time, but then immediately shot that idea down in case he was crazy.  I didn't want him touching me and there was no escape in sight.  This seemed to go on for an eternity but in reality it was probably about thirty seconds....which, in my opinion, is an extremely long time to pick your nose (let alone pick your nose in public) and about thirty seconds longer than what is socially acceptable.

I looked at him again - oh wait, he has to stop and play with the mess in his fingers...ok back in the nose again - and I wondered when he turned into my toddler niece when I wasn't looking.  At least she uses a tissue if she must do the deed, and I've been a witness to this in the privacy/decency of her own home, not surrounded by strangers...and she's only three!  He's old enough to know better...he has gray hair (not prematurely gray either) and I'd estimate he's in his mid-fifties.  I feel bad if someone asks to borrow his germy phone later today.

I wondered if he thought he was invisible.  Yes, that's it...no one can see us sitting way back here in the corner of the bus and I can do whatever I please!  If that's the case, no one clued me in.  I could have used that tidbit of info so that I could openly sneer and roll my eyes when warranted by other passengers or the traffic instead of just looking mildly constipated in an attempt to be polite and keep the peace.

And before you start thinking that I am Miss High & Mighty... one of the questions my grandmother frequently asked me when she was babysitting my brother and me growing up was...

"What do you think you're doing, digging for gold??"

Sadly, the Penguins bus is not mine, but it's much prettier!

Rescued

All he ever really wanted was to be loved. 

He never hurt anyone, never said a harsh word.  He wanted a warm and dry place to sleep at night and he didn't want to search anymore for food out in the trash, roaming the neighborhood all through the days and nights.  Especially when it was raining or snowing... it was just too cold for him!  He hated being cold.

He used to get very scared when his owners would yell loudly at him for no reason.  He would run around the house as fast as he could on his four little legs, hoping hoping hoping they couldn't catch him.  Faster, faster, faster... keep running!!  But it didn't matter.  Several times the young man didn't even bend over to smack him and would just stick out his foot for a yelp-inducing kick.

He kept up this tiring life until one day on his travels he met a new man down the street.  This man didn't have a mean bone in his body and was always happy to see him.  The man would pick him up, pet him, and say nice things to him, all the while ignoring his fleas and stench.  Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would get to go into this man's home where the man would give him a bath and feed him until it was time to leave.  This happened every so often and it always seemed like a dream to the little one who put up with so much.

Finally a day came when the new man was speaking to his owner at the front door.  He listened intently with his big ears and waited around the corner, afraid to come out into the open where he might be in trouble.  He heard his name being called and he had to move from his hiding spot; he hesitantly put on his brave face.  When he saw the new man bending down to pick him up, he shook with relief. 

Now he is warm and dry and he has his own bed.  He lives with the new man and his wife, who are now his mummy and daddy.  He never goes outside anymore without a leash and one of them with him, and he never has to find food in the trash.  They always have food and water just for him, and he even gets treats!  He still runs around the house as fast as he can, but only when mummy and daddy are playing with him and one of his toys.

His daddy has a heart of gold.  His daddy still picks him up, pets him, and says nice things to him.  He notices that his daddy is nice to everyone...always happy and full of praise, especially to his sister who magically appears home sometimes.  Once he heard his sister say... "I have the best parents in the whole wide world and I had the best childhood anyone could ever have."  He's not exactly sure what all of those words mean, but he certainly knows that he is loved.  He is his daddy's best friend.

November Rain

I'm gearing up for the first cold November rain.  And yes, while writing my very first (and potentially last) blog posting I realize that it is currently October....but who doesn't like that Guns N' Roses song?  The piano and the wistful lyrics complement the drums and guitar shredding superbly.  It's on my Top 25 list of all-time great songs (which will be shared later, just as soon as I compile it).   If you haven't heard the song before or seen the music video, check it out here.  Holy hair band and holy short wedding dress.

Anyway, like a lot of people -and I think many yinzers would agree- fall is my favorite time of the year.  I like it for the usual reasons that most people give if they have an affinity for this season:  Steelers football, college football, high school football, the beautiful and colorful leaves, the autumn smell and chill in the air, hot chocolate, the official start of sweaters and boots season, and the semi-annual Victoria Secret's sale.  Ok, so maybe the last one doesn't really count.  Did I mention football? 

Aside from the standard responses though, the main reason fall is my favorite time of the year is the anticipation it brings.  The anticipation of the holidays filled with family, laughter, and times spent together recalling past holidays.  The anticipation of Christmas and remembering/celebrating Christ's love for us.  The anticipation of the new year approaching and all of the possibilities it could bring.  It's a hopeful time even though the outside world is changing and getting colder each day.  The first snowfall is always magical.  (If I can make the snowfall comment after living in Erie for years with the lake-effect snows-until-you-can't-stand-it-and-then-it-snows-some-more weather, then you should be able to agree.)  Of course, I do realize that snow-falling happens in the winter season, but the waiting for its arrival and the anxious small-talk of "so when do you think it's gonna snow?" typically takes place in the fall and is a small part of the fun unpredictibility of life.  Wouldn't it be awful if we knew the future?  Frankly, I think it would be downright scary to know all of the heartbreak and agony ahead of time, while on the other hand it would also steal something away from the sheer joy in the breathless, happy, and wonderful moments in life if they couldn't catch you by surprise.  The one pesky afterthought of course may be to know the winning lottery numbers, but that's another topic for another day.

So congratulations...you have almost made it to the end of my first blog posting (yes, I'm writing to you Mom and Dad....the only two people who would read this!).  I know you've waited for quite some time for the blog's arrival since I have talked about it ad nauseum, but now that you have actually read it I'm sure you're anticipating the post's ending with an even greater fervor.  I can just hear the conversation now, it would go something like this...  My Mom: "So this is what a blog is?  Why would I want to sit here and read it?  I don't get it."  My Dad: "Now hold on just a minute, hush and keep reading.  I think there's more down below, maybe she will tell us something important."  My Mom: "If she had something important to tell us, wouldn't she have called?  Why do we have to check the internet?"

And finally - I have one more new reason to fall in love with the fall this year - even more so than other years.  It involves a dream of mine that has been slowly and steadily building.  I'm sure there are plenty of other Pittsburghers who hold this very same dream and yet many are not brave enough souls to vocalize it or even to take the first step in achieving it.  (Yes, many of these people are probably ages twelve and under, but who's checking ID?)  It is a thing of beauty, actually.  Everyone who knows me should know that I am competitive and that I love the city of Pittsburgh and Pittsburgh sports teams.  I also love to eat.  What could be better than cheering on the hometown baseball team in the most beautiful ballpark in the country while running a foot race dressed up as a Polish food staple?  Ladies and gentlemen (I mean - Mom and Dad)...I want to be a pierogi.  A Pittsburgh pierogi.  Fall serves as my official start to get-in-shape season to get doughy for try-outs in March.  I will be relentless in my training efforts.  Even if there's a cold November rain, I will have to force myself to get to the gym and "lay it on the line" as Axl Rose would say. 

Like I said before, I love the fall season because it's all about anticipation.  A girl can dream, right?  And if this doesn't work out, then I have a fantastic costume idea for next Halloween.