There was an old woman at the stop where I get on the bus this
morning. She has been there for the past few days. I realized, to
her, I am a "regular." I'm there every morning. And because I was
there the first day that she was there, I'm a regular.
The big guy with the dress pants and backpack showed up. He's a
regular, too. He comes every morning, goes into the gas station to
get change for the bus, the gets on after me. I'm a nice guy. I let
the old lady get on first.
As I walk down the aisle, there's the old caballero with the cowboy
hat talking in Spanish to the older woman who sits facing the
"disabled" bench seat. I don't know what he talks about. First, my
Spanish is atrocious. Second, I'm wearing headphones and listening to
Pink Floyd. I watch him. He smiles, and she laughs, then they
continue talking. He's a regular, and so is she.
On the other side, across the aisle, sits the man in his twenties who
talks to the mother of a teen daughter. The man is talking to the
woman, but staring at her daughter. The daughter is staring at her
cell phone. All three of them are regulars.
About half way to my stop, the short woman who wears a hotel uniform
gets on. I hate to stereotype, but I think she's with the cleaning
staff. She's always smiling, and I wonder why. She seems like a nice
lady. I'd like to say hi to her sometime, but I'm on the spectrum,
and I don't really want to do that. Too many barriers.
Vaseline man gets on, and he smells bad. Everyone visibly covers
their noses, but they are trying to be polite about it. I use hand
sanitizer on my hands, then put my hands to my nose. It works well.
Vaseline man has become a regular.
I get to my stop, right in front of Yummy Donut. A mother comes in
with her three children. The oldest is probably twelve and is clearly
very effeminate and probably gay. Mom corrects one of his over
gestures, hoping against the tide I think. The youngest sees me with
my hands folded to my face as if I'm praying, but I'm only watching.
The kid smiles at me and folds his hands in the same gesture, bowing
as if we are two monks greeting each other.
The backup singer from OKGO comes in. He's a regular. He gets coffee.
I studied complex dynamics in school because I thrive on chaos and
seeming randomness. Yet, I realized this morning, I have become a
regular.
