Trauma
June 16th, 2009The Scene: ACTION bus, Route no.3. Tuesday mid-morning - late enough for the bus to be generally free of schoolchildren and commuters, with plenty of space for all.
Me: Recently dressed, showered, breakfasted, plugged into my iPod and cheerily oblivious of the horror to come.
The Incident: I take a seat on the bus towards the back, as is the custom for a badass like myself.
About 2 seat rows ahead and across the aisle, there are two men sitting together, tightly squeezed together, as one of them is on the large side. They are oddly dressed. The one closest to me has thinning Tin-Tin hair, an oversized suit jacket and is talking quite loudly on a battered mobile phone. The one nearest the window is wearing a navy polar fleece vest, with nothing underneath. His substantial arms, hairy, pale and pimply, are displayed for all to see.
It’s a cold day and all the bus windows are closed and the heaters are on. This means that the air is somewhat stuffy and the smell of unwashed people soon becomes apparent. People gradually get off the bus until no-one is left except myself and the two men. The smell is still hanging around and I’ve come to believe it’s emanating from one, or both of them. I try and breathe through my mouth (but I’ve never been convinced of the merits of this method - is it better to just smell the odour, or kind of eat it?).
We pull up to the National Museum and the two men get up to get off. As the man with the vest gets up off the seat, he appears to have a wardrobe malfunction and his sweatpants end up around his ankles.
He’s not wearing underpants. The image sears itself into the back of my eyeballs for all eternity.
My jaw literally drops as he casually pulls them up, gets off the bus, then kind of leers at me through the window.
Now, I’m aware that I have to share public transport with those citizens who, for one reason or another, the state does not allow to drive. But, honestly, is there some kind of compensation fund set up to help people like myself? How will I ever recover from this? Is there a therapist qualified enough? Is there a medication strong enough?
Is this the universe gently urging me to carry on with my driving practice?