On the Bus Mall

I scurried from my apartment to catch the #8 in time to head south and make it to my 545pm class. I hopped gaily on the bus and inserted my temp transit card, unsure of how much credit remained.

"INSERT .50" I read (aloud of course) as I began digging through my foot-long purse for change. I quickly and triumphantly came up with two quarters. Peering hesitantly at the money collector, I fumbled with my quarters. Finally,

"Where do I put these?" I had to.
"Right there," said the bus driver, gesturing vaguely. I saw the familiar dollar bill slot, saw the card slot, but no coin drop.
"There," said the guy behind me, irritated by this point. Aha! I caught sight of what had been in front of me the whole time and sheepishly dropped my quarters in. I made it to class on time, with very few dirty looks from my fellow passengers.


Fast forward to five minutes after 9pm, when I'm crossing the street to hit the slowest McDonald's in the city. I need to change out a $5 bill so I can ride the bus home. I wait in the longest line any McDonald's has seen at 9pm for $1.10 worth of french fries. I would've gotten ice cream, but the wind is starting to stick, so fries it must be.

I take my tiny bag of french fries and plot a packet's worth of ketchup in its bottom, just to make sure things are as messy as possible. I feel as gross as I used to feel walking down the streets in Sevilla while eating: people don't do that there. They walk down the streets and smoke, they don't eat.

I cross the street, licking salt and ketchup from my fingers as I approach the bus stop. A girl, about my age and about my same social background (read: middle class and white), is standing at the bus stop at the most bizarre angle. I pause to look up from my feed bag and realize that she is, in fact, kissing someone. So you've got me, eating fries from a McDonald's bag, and you've got this couple so in the throes of young love that they've got to kiss even while waiting for the mundane effing bus.

I proceed to finish the fries within probably two minutes, crumpling the paper bag in my hands, trying to hide its origins. The couple is looking antsy, wondering "Where's this bus? Where is it?" Eventually they leave, arms linked round one another, and I see him put her in a cab. Suckers. Five minutes later, I'm on the bus, and that girl is sighing her love in the backseat of a cab. I think about the bowl of cereal waiting for me at home, and sigh my love in the bench seat of a bus.