Bus People (Mew-tants)

So, in an effort to cut down on the amount of burnt carbon I pump into the air, I've been attempting to ride the bus and trax whenever possible. And alright, it saves me money as well. All around, it has many benefits, and while more and more people of varying economic classes are taking public transportation these days, the lion's share of bus riders continue to belong to a class of citizen I have no other option but to call "mutants" (pronounced mew-tants). I hate to be crass enough to label these individuals as economically challenged, but the reality is, they aren't riding the bus cause they want to cut back on the miles they're putting on their brand new mercedes.

I also think that the ratio of mutants to normal individuals is much higher when you're not riding during peak hours (morning and late afternoon commutes). And since I have been coming home from work around 10 pm or so, these are the types I've been encountering.

But tonight, one mutant actually crossed the line from being a benignly amusing weirdo to an audaciously intrusive one. It began as I was sitting at the trax station waiting for the last bus of the night to head up towards my house. It wasn't leaving for the next 20 minutes, so I just sat there reading and listening to music with my headphones in. I was involved in my book, but not too much to notice someone sit on the bench just a couple feet away from me. Because I noticed him, I was also able to detect some faint sounds coming from him. I removed one of my headphones and looked at him. "What was that?" I said to him.

He spoke softly and with some kind of foreign accect, although his soft-spokenness made it difficult to decipher where (if I had to guess, maybe somewhere in the caribbean). I spoke loudly and clearly, hoping that he would respond just as loudly and clearly as I had. "I'm sorry, what was that?" I repeated. He spoke a bit louder, but not clearly. I could tell he was asking something about the bus route. Once again, I said loud and clear, "What's that?" The third time I could faintly make out that he wanted to know in which direction the bus I was waiting for was going. I told him it headed east, but not for another 15 minutes or so.

I replaced both headphones and continued to read. A moment later, I again heard the faint sounds again. I looked at him and removed my earbuds once more. "You smoke?" he asked me, holding a lighter in his hands.I said I didn't. He twirled the lighter in his hands, as if this gesture would somehow remind me that yes, I did indeed smoke and have superfluous cigerettes on my person that I would be willing to share with him.

Back to my reading. And music. But during the next few minutes, I thought I detected him looking over my shoulder at my book.

The bus arrived shortly and I got on quickly and sat down near the back door. Moments later, my new friend walked on and sat down directly behind me. And as the bus drove on, I once again got the strange sensation that he was looking over my shoulder and trying to read my book.

Now, at this point I should disclose the reason that this particular eavesdropping occurence made me a tad uneasy. The book I am reading right now is called Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex. It was written by Mary Roach, a writer who is know for tackling topics that are often considered taboos in our society (She has written two other similarly "unconventional" books, Stiff which dealt with death and funerals and everything surrounding that, and Spook, a scientific examination of the afterlife).

Now those of you who know me well are probably not surprised that I'm reading a book like this, I don't think you would be surprised if I brought it up in one of our conversations. However, as the book deals with sex and all of the research both old and new of the topic, the pages are riddled with words like penis, vagina, clitoris, orgasm, etc. And while I might not hesitate in the slightest to utter these words in a civilized discussion with friends, the prospect of a complete stranger looking over my shoulder and seeing them on the pages of the book I'm reading is not the most comforting idea.

So as the minutes went by and I only felt this guy edging further and further forward in his seat, I became increasingly filled with discomfort. So finally, I just closed the book and held it in my lap. This turned out to be the gravest tactical error I could make.

Mutant smoker-man seized on this opportunity to lean over the seat and speak to me once more. And this time, more emboldened than ever. I removed my headphones to listen to his words. They said something to the effect of "Can I see your book?" A bit shocked by his gall, I hesitated and then asked him to repeat his request. Sure enough, he was asking to see my book. I held it up, hoping that the cover would be enough to satisfy his curiousity. It wasn't .

He then grabbed the book from my hands as he offered a quasi-request to engage in the action he was already performing. "Can I see it?" he muttered as he was already pulling it from my hands. I didn't really know what to do besides let him take it. So that's what I did. As this was happening, I made eye contact with the only other individual on the bus. He was a guy about my age, also reading a book. As I looked at him, his slight smirk and raised eyebrows conveyed a similar feeling of surprise at this man's audacity. but his look also seemed to acknowledge the simple fact, "Hey, if you ride the bus, you gotta deal with bus people."

At this point, unsure how to proceed, I simply turned back towards the front and kept listening to my music. Out of the corner of my eye however, I could seeing the mutant flipping through the pages of the book. I looked back a few times and some him looking at the humorous cartoons which precede the start of each chapter in the book.

I sat for minutes as different scenarios flashed through my head. "What if he just pulls for a stop and tries to get off with my book? Am I really gonna try and stop him? What if he stabs me? It wouldn't be unheard of. Perhaps if in that moment I convey to him the personal significance of the book; if I tell him it was a gift from a close friend, maybe he'll reconsider stealing it from me."

Minutes passed, and I saw and heard him just flipping through the pages, I felt more emboldened myself, and finally I turned fully around and asked him politely, "Can I please have my book back?" In a moment of complete irony, he didn't even look up at me as he said calmy, "No, I'm reading." As if I was now somehow the one making an extraordinary imposition on him. In that moment, I really almost laughed. I looked over at my fellow normal guy, hoping for a look that said, "Don't worry, if this guy tries anything, we can take him." But alas, he was engulfed in his own book.

The prospect of actually letting this person dictate to me when I would or would not see the return of my property was sufficiently off-putting to give me the momentary will to repeat authoritatively, "HEY, can I have my book back please?" I used all of my vocal skills to ensure that my words would not come across as hostile but could not be dismissed as anything less than insistent. At this, he looked up at me. For a moment, I thought he indeed might take this opportunity to establish real authority vis-a-vis a switch-blade he kept in his boot, but luckily, he seemed uninterested in causing a fuss, and so he simply handed it back to me.

He got off at the next stop, which made me ride easy the rest of the way home, as I no longer had to envision him following me home and asking/demanding to raid the rest of my personal library.

So, to those of you out there considering riding the bus more often , I say go for it. Just be aware of the unspoken "sharing policy" that obviously exists between fellow mutants and the few normal people who dare to ever enter their domain.

And leave your kinky reading material at home.