Come ride with us (bozos) on the bus

I left my iPod at home, my book in my drawer at work, so I rode the bus home from work this afternoon with nothing to occupy my time … except stare out the window while I chewed a piece of gum.

I’m trying to eliminate distractions in my life a little anyway… too much music, too much technology, too much time calling people who are rarely around, too much time making lists.

At the risk of being totally bored, I left home today without my iPod. I think my hearing is starting to go anyway.. I seem to always miss the first word of a sentence when someone speaks to me… so a day or week without earbuds probably is good for me.

I always see 101 different things through the dirty bus window so the ride home isn’t altogether dull… today I enjoyed red tiger lilies in full bloom in front of the Midwest Airlines Center, sympathized with mothers pulling tired children out of day cares, wondered at drivers who still smoke, sitting in their cars.

Then I saw a man lying flat on his face at the bus stop on 41st and Vliet. He looked like he was having a good nap. The bus honked, twice, but he didn’t stir. He was out cold. The bus driver called somebody and we kept meandering on down the street.

I see a lot of unusual things from my bus window, but this was a first. It’s always interesting riding the bus. This reminded me of a book I read where the author said we are all just bozos on the bus, meaning we’re all the same, goofed up human beings with the same insecurities and faults, and nobody can fool anybody with fancy clothes, a fancy job or scooter, fancy iPod or a fancy house.

These are all distractions, too, I think, designed to satisfy some insecurity temporarily. All they really do is distract us from being with our true selves and remembering how special each of us is – even the guy on the sidewalk – without all the stuff. 

It could have been any one of us lying on that street corner today, with the snap of fate’s fingers. That’s the way I see it, anyway.

So I guess what I’m getting at is that I’m glad for dull bus rides and a 9-to-5 job and an old house and clothes from Goodwill and my bus pass (paid for partly by my employer), which allows me to bond with my bozo busmates each and every day.

Now, what was I doing again before I started this blog?


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