Spring time Saturdays in Broward County, what could be better. Cool temps, still too cool to roll up my sleeves. The rising sun has turned Oakland Park Blvd. into a street of gold. Yellow tabs in bloom. Ibis pecking for grubs. The light is clear and golden.
A guy in a Piney Grove Baptist shirt, glasses, and snaggle teeth. On his way there now for a health fair. A friend goes there, I ask if he knows him. Yes, he does.
"Thanks for sayin' that, my mind was gone." The middle-aged man in pink-themed outfit thanked me for announcing the stop. There's no annunciator or PA on this bus so I'm doing it old school and hoping folks can hear me at least halfway back into the artic. It's good to know someone's listening, we all need periodic reminders of where we are at this moment. His statement reminded me of my own experiences staring out a bus window, both locally and during the Gypsy Years. Whether the view is familiar or strange, this time-defying act can transport the imagination beyond the bus and down countless side streets, countryside paths, and glimpses of Life.
"How's it goin' out there?," I asked one gentleman as he paid the box. Even though the bus is out there too, it's always on the move like a planet unto itself. Since it's a long road with ever-changing dynamics, I like to find out what's going on with people at various points along the way.
"It's goin' nice. How's it goin' in here?"
It's goin' nice in here, too, Sir.
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