A few weeks back, my friend James proposed that I should start, talking to guys on the bus. According to him, it’s the place to meet eligible bachelors. As much as I valued the unsolicited dating advice, I wasn’t about to go searching for my future soulmate on the D-Line.
I remembered this and chuckled to myself during tonight’s commute, as I allowed my eyes to drift up and down the rows, studying the cast of characters.
If there is one thing that I’ve gathered, surrounding the collective group of “folks who ride the bus”, it is that they come in all shapes, sizes, ages, outfits (or lack thereof), scents, sounds, and of course, varying levels of sanity. This statement was certainly alive and well among the Monday evening crew of passengers.
I stopped my gaze at the group of twenty-somethings seated directly across from me. Although the six were fully clothed, unaccompanied by any noticeable odor, and kept to themselves; they caught my eye.
Because every single damn one of them was knee-deep in their cell phone, so much so, had I stripped down naked and started screaming racial slurs, they likely would have failed to notice. (To be fair – this could very well occur on any given day aboard the D-Line).
I grew sad as I realized the present moment was being lost right before my eyes, to a virtual reality contained within six inches of plastic.
Undeniably, we all seem to spend more time worrying about what’s happened, or what’s to come, that we fail to stop and actually live, anymore.
If this wasn’t Exhibit A — I can’t be certain what is.
The only logical solution, I concluded: to hold myself accountable; to be present.
In doing so, I’ve opted to reserve those thirty minutes each day spent aboard the shitshow that is the Metro Bus, where I’ll refrain from responding to text messages, placing phone calls, reviewing emails, or logging into Facebook to discover that yet another college friend is pregnant, or engaged, or buying a house (no offense guys).
Instead, I’ll simply sit and stare, absorbing the crazy that is unfolding around me, enjoying it for every ounce that it’s worth, in believing that “real generosity toward the future lies in giving all to the present” (Camus).