The Man Who Writes With Both Hands


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Originally uploaded by bdunnette

Riding the bus — particularly early-morning commuter buses — adds a whole new layer of surrealism to life, along with a weird sort of community. Community because you see these people every day, same time, trying to get to work just like you. But weird because nobody’s too talkative at seven in the morning — we’re all only awake until we get seated, then settle into that weird half-napping routine that you develop, waking up just long enough to see if the lurching of the bus is related to your stop. Yet, seeing people every day, you almost can’t help giving them names: Beret (whose name is self-explanatory), The Man Who Writes With Both Hands (who carries a cooler with a giant cartoon heart drawn on the side and filled with some obscure, semi-apocalyptic writing), Subway (who hasn’t developed his napping routine fully, and nearly sleeps through his stop), Hair Bun (who, defying stereotypes of unkempt bus riders, does elaborate things with hair and chopsticks during the commute).

Nobody who wears a mousetrap yet, but I’ll keep ya posted.

Which reminds me: am I the only one who get’s tongue-twisted on that line of The Hollies’ “Bus Stop” that goes: “Sometimes she’d shop and she would show me what she bought”? For some reason I keep singing it to myself while walking to the bus, and it’s a real “She smells sheep smells by the sheet store” kinda experience.