Bubbles Bursting

One of the biggest parts of public transportation is just that – the public.  The insular, mobile habitat with the fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror, shoes thrown in the back seat and the hand picked music we created disappears.  This bubble limits interaction to an angry honk or love tap.  When you are on a bus, you no longer have a bubble.  You are boxed in with people you typically wouldn’t interact with.  While standing at the bus stop or walking between destinations, you are forced to be among people – maybe this is one reason New York City has incredible energy.  

On a normal day taking my normal route, I met a middle-aged woman who proves my theory above.  I hear hustle and bustle of plastic bags behind me with erratic footsteps.  Cautious of my surroundings, I casually look.  I am instantly relieved when I see that the person was a mentally handicapped woman.  I no longer felt threatened even though her footsteps speed up with a more urgent pace. 

Few seconds go by, she had caught up to me and says, “We are wearing the same pants!”   Indeed, we both were wearing similar colored pants.  She wore a baggy pair of gray sweat pants and I was in gray leggings.  Her enthusiasm was endearing and contagious.  She was beside herself and could not stop talking about it.  Then, she dramatically stops and says, with her palm in the air, “high five.” 

I obliged.

She continues to talk about how she has never seen anyone walking down the same street has her with matching clothes.  As I tried to change the subject, she would quickly answer my questions and start talking about the matching outfits again. 

After a block or so, she stops and enthusiastically says, “We have matching shirts!!”  Sure enough, we were both wearing a turquoise shirt.

“High Five” 

I oblige, again.

This cycle goes on for another block.  As she frantically runs ahead to the guy walking his dog, I am thinking this interaction is done.  The matching outfits were no longer as interesting as the cute, wired haired dog on the red leash. 

Nope. Not so fast.  She decided this stranger walking his dog needed to know about our matching outfits. 

He awkwardly obliged with a half-cocked smile.

The two of us continued our walk for about 10 more feet.  When she walks quickly ahead of me yelling “Ok all done talking.”

Now it was clear that our brief interaction was done.  I still see her every now and then.  She doesn’t remember me maybe because we haven’t been in matching outfits since. It was a fun interaction while it lasted.