TheBanyanTree: Triple Play

[Margaret R. Kramer]

My son cautioned me about riding the bus at night.  “There are lots of weird
people on the bus at night, Mom.  Be careful.”  OK, we were careful.  Riding
mass transit in the late afternoon is different than riding it at night.

The “normal” people, such as the woman, who was waiting at the bus stop
across the street from our bus stop, and who we watched having an animated
conversation with herself, ride the bus during the day.  All the weirdoes,
people with green hair, tattoos, saggy pants, wild eyes, and skin colors
that are not lily white, are like vampires and only go outside after the sun
sets.  These are the people we had to watch for on our ride home.

A bunch of people of all different colors got on with us at the Mall of
America after we got off the light rail.  Not only people go there to shop
for the objects of their dreams, but people also work there to support the
Mall.  Also, the Mall is a hub in the transit system, which means it’s used
to transfer from one bus to another.  So, besides the Mall workers, there
were other people who were using the Mall to get on the right bus to go
home.

The bus rode along the dark streets, passing by empty bus stops and losing
no passengers.  Then it wound its way to the airport and found many people
waiting to get on.  Person after person got on the bus until it was standing
room only.  These weren’t air travelers taking the bus home, these were
airport workers, the security officers, the baggage handlers, the cleaning
people, and who knows what else?  These are the people who keep the airport
going, the people we don’t notice too much while we’re slinging our
suitcases onto the conveyer belt or dropping our trash on the floor.  These
are the people who work nights and weekends for a small amount of money to
provide for their families.

The bus didn’t get too far before it began dropping people off at various
apartment complexes close to the airport.  By the time we got to our stop,
the bus was about half full.  We walked the two blocks home enjoying the
summer evening warmth.  Our back light was on, the dog was happy to see us,
and we were glad to be home.

My son was wrong about the bus at night – it wasn’t full of weirdoes looking
to do harm – it was full of people, tired from a long day and looking
forward to do nothing but get home, like us.

In my early morning dream world, I heard the paper guy stop and start his
car as he delivered the Sunday morning papers.  I came to consciousness
after “sleeping in” an extra hour.  I got the coffee brewing, fed the cat,
and walked the dog up the block.  Oh, there is nothing like a summer morning
with a slight breeze rustling the leaves, the birds singing, and the warm
air full of summer promises.

I remembered being a “paper boy” myself about 20 years ago.  I didn’t drive
from house to house to deliver the paper.  I used an old canvass paper bag
and walked up and down the blocks carefully tucking each paper inside the
screen door.  Hey, I got great tips!  Not as many people get the paper now.
We can read it online or get the abbreviated and highly slanted version of
the news on TV.  But what is Sunday morning without coffee and a good read
of the newspaper?  I can’t imagine a Sunday morning without reading the
paper.  I don’t mind hearing the car stopping and starting early in the
morning, because I know there will be a newspaper for me on my doorstep.

One of the headlines in this morning’s paper was about the Twins’ triple
play last night.  The bases were loaded, no outs (obviously!), and the
Mariners were ready to break the game wide open, and then a weak hit was
made, and boom, boom, and boom! Three outs!  How cool was that?

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net

You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so
it's all right.
~Maya Angelou