I kind of loved it

To me it's a monsoon. To everyone else, we'll they're talking on their phones, sending emails, texting, and listening to their mp3 players. I suppose there was the occasional person struggling to keep their umbrella from flipping up like you see in the cartoons, but most seemed oblivious. Not me. Tonight I was a pawn in the middle of a metropolitan storm.

The wind blew from all directions. It's not like I have never witnessed this before, so I wasnt completely surprised, but I was bewildered over the uncountable number of rain pellets shooting upward into the cubby I formed with my body and black umbrella to keep my head and shoulders dry.

I could see it swirling in the halos of the amber street lights. The rest which hit my skin seemed invisible.

It was nearly a 20-minute walk and I soon found myself in the dry confines of the public bus, venturing home after a day of work downtown.

So many faces; everybody coming from their own worlds, with their own life adventures, and their own stories to tell. But here on this bus we were united, if even temporarily, within inches of one another awaiting for the next person to reach their stop. We shared the same stale stench of wet bodies and musty air. The dim neon lights shine only as bright as to know where one another are, and are not welcoming.

This unity is evanescent however, and almost immediately we, as bus riders, create yet another individual world.

The headphones turn on, the phones and internet become active again, and books appear from backpacks. I can see it all. I too have ventured off by myself to write on a pad of paper.

I can hear the guy next to me make call after call. He just told his unknowing friend that he blew out his back and was unsure of attending the upcoming event this weekend.  This man also loves his wife. I heard him say so.

On my left a droplet of water nicked my thigh. It has sporadically dripped from the roof of the bus this entire ride and I am sure it will target me before long. It is a similar droplet to those that scatter the bus window across the isle. On the other side of that window I can see a blurred soccer game under the lighted field. How can they stand upright in that wind?

To my right I have clandestinely observed an older man read a book on his Amazon Kindle. Have you seen these yet?

For some reason seeing this man read a book electronically on his tablet reaffirmed that I was some place new. It reassured me that I like it here.

One by one this collective group of strangers depart the bus. I am often the last one off, but not tonight.