Tuesday, June 9, 2020

The display on the front of the bus is scrambled. I can’t make out which line it is or where it’s headed. As it passes me, I see from the display on the side that it is the line that I need. I chase after it for a couple of meters, waving my transit card in the air. I stop as it heads into the traffic circle. I put my card back in my pocket, rest my bag of groceries on the ground, and sigh. Chasing the bus never works. I will have to wait for another half an hour. I walk back to the stop and sit on the bench. A moment later, I see a bus for the same line come off the traffic circle and head down the divided road in the other direction. I watch as it passes. The lines end at the train station a block away. Buses often pause there before beginning another run. At the train station, the bus loops around and comes back toward me. I see the scrambled display on the front. It’s the same bus. It stops where I’m sitting and opens its back door. I hop on and call out my thanks to the driver. There are no transit card scanners toward the back, so I stumble forward as the bus heads around the circle again. “It’s OK,” the driver says. “Sit. Sit. Nothing’s working.” I notice that none of the interior lights are on. The display up front does show the stops. The recorded announcer calls them out. A few more people get on the bus along the way. He tells each of them to sit down. The ride is free. When my stop appears, I press the buzzer and get off. I don’t have to wait for traffic to pass. In our yard, I see that the sofa is gone, but my laundry has returned. I juggle the laundry and my groceries as I fumble for my key. As I open the door, a cockroach who has been waiting on the step for me runs inside, disappearing into the darkness. Maybe I’ll find it later. Maybe I won’t.