At least it looked great on his HD screen.
Brian stared intensely at the bend in the ice-caked road a quarter mile away, where it disappeared behind that huge eyesore of an apartment complex that was built last year. If he stared hard enough he was sure he could will the bus into existence. Maybe it would come on time today if he just fucking wanted it bad enough. Wasn't that how everything worked in life?
Want it bad enough, and you'll lose twenty pounds.
Want it bad enough, and you'll get that promotion.
Want it bad enough, and your mom will stop sharing Twitpics of you as a toddler in that homemade Donald Duck costume.
Want it bad enough, and you'll get that promotion.
Want it bad enough, and your mom will stop sharing Twitpics of you as a toddler in that homemade Donald Duck costume.
An eternity went by before the bus arrived and opened its warm, loving arms. The impressively bearded driver offered a jarring "Good mornin'!" as Brian stepped inside. This greeting was oddly cheerful for such an objectively horrifying day. Brian would have attempted to respond in kind if the driver had not been exactly nine minutes behind schedule. As it stood, Brian avoided eye contact, muttered an expletive under his breath, and paid his fare.
The temperature was an expectedly welcome change, but this bus was far more full than Brian had hoped. His first obstacle was just past the driver: a young, morbidly rotund woman with freakishly long pink hair, who was intent on making things difficult for anyone wanting to press on and take his chances in the belly of the beast. Brian wordlessly sucked in his comparatively modest gut and managed to squeeze by, only to find the first three seats on his right occupied by a tightly packed row of craggy, 40-something, blue-collar men, each in a deep sleep, heads bobbing aimlessly along with each acceleration, brake, and bump. If the travel mugs they each held in their hands contained coffee, it wasn't showing.
Brian's gaze bypassed the rest of the riders to zero in on a single open seat toward the back of the bus, partially hidden behind a man in a large Sean John parka. It was as if the seat had been saved just for him. A wave of relief washed over him as he made his way toward upholstered salvation, edging past oblivious standing riders, and then finally through the seated hoards thumbing at their smartphones to distract themselves from this interminable thing that was public transportation.
He arrived at the seat that had eluded the 6 a.m. zombies still standing, and he felt inordinately proud of his catch. In his mind he had bested keen-eyed, determined rivals, finding Waldo against all odds in a sea of red and white stripes.
The woman seated against the window smiled politely as he joined her. She was pretty, and Brian returned her smile perhaps too eagerly. He settled in, removed his gloves, and took his phone out of his pocket to get back the Kim Stanley Robinson novel he was nearly finished with. But as he laid eyes on page 401, the screen went dark. Please connect to power source, read the display. In this moment he realized he hadn't charged his phone overnight.
Another twenty minutes, minimum, remained until Brian reached his destination. He never could sleep in moving vehicles, and he had to pass the time somehow. He thought up a good line to strike up conversation with the pretty woman, and went for it.
Nothing.
He then noticed pop music faintly emanating from her earbuds, which were connected to her smartphone, which she was presently thumbing at. Then he noticed something on her screen...
The abominable snowman was laughing.
Brian's gaze bypassed the rest of the riders to zero in on a single open seat toward the back of the bus, partially hidden behind a man in a large Sean John parka. It was as if the seat had been saved just for him. A wave of relief washed over him as he made his way toward upholstered salvation, edging past oblivious standing riders, and then finally through the seated hoards thumbing at their smartphones to distract themselves from this interminable thing that was public transportation.
He arrived at the seat that had eluded the 6 a.m. zombies still standing, and he felt inordinately proud of his catch. In his mind he had bested keen-eyed, determined rivals, finding Waldo against all odds in a sea of red and white stripes.
The woman seated against the window smiled politely as he joined her. She was pretty, and Brian returned her smile perhaps too eagerly. He settled in, removed his gloves, and took his phone out of his pocket to get back the Kim Stanley Robinson novel he was nearly finished with. But as he laid eyes on page 401, the screen went dark. Please connect to power source, read the display. In this moment he realized he hadn't charged his phone overnight.
Another twenty minutes, minimum, remained until Brian reached his destination. He never could sleep in moving vehicles, and he had to pass the time somehow. He thought up a good line to strike up conversation with the pretty woman, and went for it.
Nothing.
He then noticed pop music faintly emanating from her earbuds, which were connected to her smartphone, which she was presently thumbing at. Then he noticed something on her screen...
The abominable snowman was laughing.
