The Usual Suspects
Last night we witnessed an amazing light show complete with booming thunder, angry, blustering winds and, of course, lightening. The cacophony of the night lent itself mostly to sleep. Not that sleep is easy to come by with all the noise. Every couple of minutes or so a thunderous boom shakes your foundation and the accompanying lightening filters through all your windows and makes it daytime in your room. Your best bet is to reduce your electrical usage and call it a night. It just makes sense to cut off your electrical appliances to avoid a malfunction or short circuit, which we did. The only appliance left running, aside from the fridge, was the air-conditioner. We were approaching the finish line of the year’s first heat wave, but we still had the heavy thickness of the high temperatures lingering.
Despite the rain, we in Lincoln Park, NJ did not experience any flooding (big shock), no downed trees (big shock as well) and no loss of power (can I get an alleluia?). Therefore, this morning it was back to the normal routine.
My morning routine consists mainly of running around my house getting ready, allotting more time for make-up application than I do for breakfast. I must match clothes to shoes to bag and accessorize as needed. Usually I will run out of time gazing into the mirror and end up buying a bagel or a breakfast sandwich at my favorite NYC deli around the corner from my job. It is to the point where the grill cook – a funny Puerto Rican guy whose Asian wife just gave birth to a boy – starts making my “usual” as soon as he sees me coming. He is nice and so is his sidekick, the bread butterer. I do not know their names, but we engage in small talk daily, as my breakfast is made. They are nice. They work very long, hard hours mostly on their feet. I sit on my butt all day and complain about it. Grass is always greener…
Before I even get to that deli, I have already crossed waters into New York via tunnel while sitting on an NJ Transit bus with the usual suspects. I guess I have not been paying attention, but this morning it occurred to me that – for the most part – I ride into work with the same people every day. It is odd how no one addresses anyone else. Mainly, you stare straight ahead while on line, or read. Then you get on the bus, pay your fare via ticket, cash or monthly pass, and go about finding a spot for the ride in. You hope against hope that you can get two seats by yourself. You do this by making yourself appear unfriendly or unwelcoming. This includes the following tricks: Sit in the aisle seat because people hate to climb over other people. Whip out a book, magazine, newspaper or other reading material and appear to concentrate hard on it. Plug in your iPod and attempt to sing when you know you have a voice Simon Cowell would deem horrific. Open a laptop and start typing furiously away – if someone wants to sleep for the ride, he or she will not sit next to you! Make your bags look bulky and space consuming. Sigh heavily if someone asks to sit by you. Cough loudly a few times as people file into the bus so you can appear very germy. If someone asks to sit by the window, pretend you did not understand and slide over giving him or her the aisle seat, the person will roll his or her eyes and walk away mumbling under their breath about immigrants or selfish people. Who cares? You are sitting aone! I know, it is awful, but it all works.
I try to be one of the first in line because I like to get the seat directly behind the driver. There is a black, glossy Plexiglas in front of me when I sit there. There is a good reason why I want that seat. I get motion sick so easily and that is the only seat on the bus that keeps the motion sickness at bay. If I sit anywhere else, I have learned the hard way, I am positively ill by the time I get to work or home. I think it has something to do with avoiding the passing traffic on either side and ahead of me. Sitting behind the driver, I see nothing but my reflection.
So anyway, this morning I got my favorite seat and decided to pay more attention to the incoming traffic of commuters. Turns out I recognize a lot of them. There is the lady with the black helmet hair straight out of Mary Tyler Moore. It is obvious that Aqua Net is her friend. She gets on each day with not a hair out of place. Her spackled make-up indicates that she spends more time putting her face on that I do! I can tell she is money, too. Aside from that super hot $3,600.90 Louis Vuitton Damier canvas tote (yes, that is the price), she also carries a rather large computer bag that, quite frankly is much too big for just a laptop. I am convinced she travels with her personal desktop PC from her house. The woman has to squeeze into the bus with one arm stretched out in front of her with the Louis and the other behind her with her home computer. She is partial to Cole Haan shoes, I notice. I love the pair she is wearing and secretly covet them.
Behind her is the uptight pharmacist-looking fellow. I know I have seen him before. He is hard to ignore. He has the unfortunate comb over some men think is a clever way to hide the obvious. This guy’s pants are always an inch or five too short. His nails are bitten to the quick. I see him working on them in line. He likes white or light colored shirts, which is a bad idea considering the pit stains he sports. He gets on and sits down fast in the first available seat he sees. He always looks nervous and creepy. He is probably hiding from the law!
One girl gets on every day, too. She looks 14 but is probably 25. She rushes on at the last minute and scans the bus quickly with shifty eyes trying to locate a seat. Every time I see her, I want to scream EAT SOMETHING you skinny bitch! No, it is not bitterness, she really does look hungry. There are days when I feel like giving her part of my bagged lunch! She is skin and bones this one. I am convinced she is a product of some eating disorder. No one is that skinny on purpose. She wears the clothes that you notice in stores and say: “Holy crap! Who wears this size xxs?” Well, now you know! It’s the skinny girl on bus 193.
One last guy worth mentioning is the man I call Double M. There is nothing particularly weird, or outstanding about him except that he looks frighteningly similar to my husband’s boss. From the face to the eyes to the height and the walk, it is like a spitting image of the man! And seeing as how the real Double M lives just a couple of towns over from us and commutes from the same location, it would not be the strangest thing in the world to run into him on a bus. I cannot help looking at him because I am convinced he is somehow related to Double M. I hope he never catches me looking and thinks I have the hots for him because nothing could be further from the truth. I am just intrigued by the reality that everyone on earth does have a twin and I have found Double M’s twin right on my bus!
My bus pulls into Port Authority and unloads all of us onto a wretchedly exhaust-filled depot. I try my best to hold my breath until I am safely indoors. All I can think of is the people who work in that poisonous environment every day! Their poor lungs must be covered in the cancerous fumes from all of these buses. Again, I thank God for the job I have…
Despite the rain, we in Lincoln Park, NJ did not experience any flooding (big shock), no downed trees (big shock as well) and no loss of power (can I get an alleluia?). Therefore, this morning it was back to the normal routine.
My morning routine consists mainly of running around my house getting ready, allotting more time for make-up application than I do for breakfast. I must match clothes to shoes to bag and accessorize as needed. Usually I will run out of time gazing into the mirror and end up buying a bagel or a breakfast sandwich at my favorite NYC deli around the corner from my job. It is to the point where the grill cook – a funny Puerto Rican guy whose Asian wife just gave birth to a boy – starts making my “usual” as soon as he sees me coming. He is nice and so is his sidekick, the bread butterer. I do not know their names, but we engage in small talk daily, as my breakfast is made. They are nice. They work very long, hard hours mostly on their feet. I sit on my butt all day and complain about it. Grass is always greener…
Before I even get to that deli, I have already crossed waters into New York via tunnel while sitting on an NJ Transit bus with the usual suspects. I guess I have not been paying attention, but this morning it occurred to me that – for the most part – I ride into work with the same people every day. It is odd how no one addresses anyone else. Mainly, you stare straight ahead while on line, or read. Then you get on the bus, pay your fare via ticket, cash or monthly pass, and go about finding a spot for the ride in. You hope against hope that you can get two seats by yourself. You do this by making yourself appear unfriendly or unwelcoming. This includes the following tricks: Sit in the aisle seat because people hate to climb over other people. Whip out a book, magazine, newspaper or other reading material and appear to concentrate hard on it. Plug in your iPod and attempt to sing when you know you have a voice Simon Cowell would deem horrific. Open a laptop and start typing furiously away – if someone wants to sleep for the ride, he or she will not sit next to you! Make your bags look bulky and space consuming. Sigh heavily if someone asks to sit by you. Cough loudly a few times as people file into the bus so you can appear very germy. If someone asks to sit by the window, pretend you did not understand and slide over giving him or her the aisle seat, the person will roll his or her eyes and walk away mumbling under their breath about immigrants or selfish people. Who cares? You are sitting aone! I know, it is awful, but it all works.
I try to be one of the first in line because I like to get the seat directly behind the driver. There is a black, glossy Plexiglas in front of me when I sit there. There is a good reason why I want that seat. I get motion sick so easily and that is the only seat on the bus that keeps the motion sickness at bay. If I sit anywhere else, I have learned the hard way, I am positively ill by the time I get to work or home. I think it has something to do with avoiding the passing traffic on either side and ahead of me. Sitting behind the driver, I see nothing but my reflection.
So anyway, this morning I got my favorite seat and decided to pay more attention to the incoming traffic of commuters. Turns out I recognize a lot of them. There is the lady with the black helmet hair straight out of Mary Tyler Moore. It is obvious that Aqua Net is her friend. She gets on each day with not a hair out of place. Her spackled make-up indicates that she spends more time putting her face on that I do! I can tell she is money, too. Aside from that super hot $3,600.90 Louis Vuitton Damier canvas tote (yes, that is the price), she also carries a rather large computer bag that, quite frankly is much too big for just a laptop. I am convinced she travels with her personal desktop PC from her house. The woman has to squeeze into the bus with one arm stretched out in front of her with the Louis and the other behind her with her home computer. She is partial to Cole Haan shoes, I notice. I love the pair she is wearing and secretly covet them.
Behind her is the uptight pharmacist-looking fellow. I know I have seen him before. He is hard to ignore. He has the unfortunate comb over some men think is a clever way to hide the obvious. This guy’s pants are always an inch or five too short. His nails are bitten to the quick. I see him working on them in line. He likes white or light colored shirts, which is a bad idea considering the pit stains he sports. He gets on and sits down fast in the first available seat he sees. He always looks nervous and creepy. He is probably hiding from the law!
One girl gets on every day, too. She looks 14 but is probably 25. She rushes on at the last minute and scans the bus quickly with shifty eyes trying to locate a seat. Every time I see her, I want to scream EAT SOMETHING you skinny bitch! No, it is not bitterness, she really does look hungry. There are days when I feel like giving her part of my bagged lunch! She is skin and bones this one. I am convinced she is a product of some eating disorder. No one is that skinny on purpose. She wears the clothes that you notice in stores and say: “Holy crap! Who wears this size xxs?” Well, now you know! It’s the skinny girl on bus 193.
One last guy worth mentioning is the man I call Double M. There is nothing particularly weird, or outstanding about him except that he looks frighteningly similar to my husband’s boss. From the face to the eyes to the height and the walk, it is like a spitting image of the man! And seeing as how the real Double M lives just a couple of towns over from us and commutes from the same location, it would not be the strangest thing in the world to run into him on a bus. I cannot help looking at him because I am convinced he is somehow related to Double M. I hope he never catches me looking and thinks I have the hots for him because nothing could be further from the truth. I am just intrigued by the reality that everyone on earth does have a twin and I have found Double M’s twin right on my bus!
My bus pulls into Port Authority and unloads all of us onto a wretchedly exhaust-filled depot. I try my best to hold my breath until I am safely indoors. All I can think of is the people who work in that poisonous environment every day! Their poor lungs must be covered in the cancerous fumes from all of these buses. Again, I thank God for the job I have…
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