I swear it’s the butt crack of dawn as I finally get onto the bus. It’s too early and I can’t believe I have to get up and out of my house an hour before work to make it on time. I’m suckling the last bit of coffee from my cup trying to wake up. What happen to the morning lover? She went hiding behind the monotonous routine of 8-5 living, while I feel left with this cantankerous residue for this early morning ride. Its cold, its one of those wet winter days dripping everywhere. I tell myself if I can just wake up.
I walk myself to the back of the bus and sit down. The bus is full. We are a crowd moving down Michigan Ave. The bus is noisy, everyone seems to be chatting, laughing, and yelling all over the place. The bus feels heavy with winter coats and boots. Me, I’m trying to conserve the last slurp of coffee in my cup until I can get to work and purchase my second cup. I got the joneses bad, I tell myself as I joke about my own coffee addiction. My internal dialogue entertains my tired a$$ this morning.
I’m not an 8-5’er. Especially the job I got. It’s not my thing, I tell myself as I wipe the tired that has crept into the corner of my eyes. So, what do we do about, Moe? I ask myself. I have three applications out there for jobs, received one rejection last week, and 1 new job I found to apply for. I go through my list and sigh. I’m doing what I can. I’m in that wait-and-see part of life where I should be grateful I do have two incomes keeping me holding out for the job I want.
This woman next to me distracts my thoughts as she yells at this child, “If you don’t put your butt in that seat, you’re gonna get hurt.” The kid as defiant as I feel towards the dawn shakes his a$$ at his Mom then puts it in the seat. Though entertained by the kid, my too early in the morning blues puts me right back to my internal pout. I imagine myself a super hero. By weekday I am a temporary executive secretary, waiting in the professional stream-lined attire for someone to give me something to staple while on the weekends I am a social worker in a mental health program holding folks hands while they mentally melt down. Go me!
The kid starts to rise again, this time shaking his butt at his mother. She roles her eyes and leans into me. “This kid was born to annoy me,” she whispers. I try and slightly push myself away, but she winds up grabbing the collar of my coat and pushing me closer. Um, boundaries! I think, but say nothing. “We think he’s going to wind up being an entertainer. Probably a comedian, but as long as he’s happy.”
“Oh,” I say, not really caring. The woman then releases me from her hold and tries to grab her kid who dangles his rear in her presence only to move it quickly when she lunges forward. He does this twice chuckling at her each time. I hide my own smile behind my scarf.
“Boi, you need to sit down before you get hurt!”
And then suddenly, the bus stops without warning as if for her alone. The kid goes furling into the main way between the seats and yells out “Owe. Mommy, I hurt my head.”
Mom, I swear she blinks twice before saying, “You can blame that butt of yours for not staying seated.”
Then the kid picks himself up, rubbing his head he turns his butt towards his face, kind of like what a dog would do and says, “Butt why did you betray me so?”
I laugh out loud and realize mornings aren’t so bad.