This evening on the commute home, the little boy with the cool gloves on a string got on the bus, with his still frazzled looking mother staggering behind him. Today, instead of paper airplanes, he held a soccer ball.
He sat swinging his legs, securely holding the ball in arms. His gloved fingers strained to reach one another on the far side of the ball. The bus bumped and lurched along in the heavy 5:30 traffic.
Suddenly, the ball sprang free and rolled mischievously around the bus. The little boy stood up, and was promptly put back in his seat by the bus’ sporadic movements.
His mother retrieved the ball and admonished him to “Keep a better grip on it.”
I changed buses at Harvard Square, someone really needs to rethink the bus numbering for that area. I catch the 86, however, the 66, 68, 69 and 96 also stop there. From a distance the numbers look the same. They also all have stops with in about 100 yards of each other.
I also had four minutes between my bus connections. Goth couples who feel the escalator is an appropriate place for intense PDA sessions should be relocated out of my way.
Fortunately, my connecting bus was a little late (so I caught it). Unfortunately, the fourth-to-last man getting on paid with a defective dollar bill and change… while talking loudly on the cell phone. It took him 3 minutes to get on (the man next to me timed him).
Harvard Square is a special place, filled with very special people. It has fun window shopping, but is not the best place to commute in and out of.