Rebecca Fisseha, Writer.

Five days a week, traveling on the 41, 71 or 108, I find myself dreading what’s at the other end of my trip (work) and wishing that the bus ride would last just a little longer, but of course it never does. Extra stops don’t materialize. Road doesn’t magically elongate itself. Never any decent traffic jams. No accidents massive enough to cause road closure. Terrorist hijackers don’t see hostage value in this city. Typhoon season is over.

You would think that being on one’s way to work has got to be the only reason why one would wish one’s bus ride to last longer. But no, one could wish it for it when…

it’s freezing outside,

one has one’s eye on someone on the bus,

someone on the bus has their eye on one,

one knows there’s a shitstorm waiting at one’s destination,

one has found a really cozy corner seat,

the person next to one is reading an awesome book or magazine

or having an awesome phone conversation

or listening to an awesome song one can’t place

or eating awesome food and if one inhales the aroma long enough it’ll be like eating it

or one hopes to be offered some,

one has snuck on the bus without paying,

a psycho killer has been jogging along the bus waiting for one to get off,

one’s not in control of one’s muscle function and can’t even remember how one climbed on the bus and took a seat in the first place,

one’s seat vibrations from the powerful motor are starting to feel just right,

one has had some sort of wardrobe malfunction,

someone one knows but would rather not chitchat with is on the same bus but hasn’t seen one,

one has started sketching someone,

one is on the way to one’s holiday resort and if the holiday officially begins that means it also is officially on its way to ending,

a fat person is squeezed in between one and the door

or 25 average size persons are squeezed in between one and the door,

one has just oozed shawarma sauce all over one’s lap,

one is forcing oneself to quit smoking and one’s seatmate smells like a tobacco farm,

something up one’s alley is on the bus tv,

one’s foot falls asleep,

…for all these reasons and millions more yet to be discovered by millions dragging themselves off to the daily grind, one could well wish for one’s ride to last even one minute longer.

Note: Riders of the Anbessa bus line are likely to disagree with all the above points.

Happy Monday and Many Happy Returns.

Next up: Reasons to Get out of a Warm Comfy Bed on a December Morning