THE SCENT OF HUMANITY!

(write-a-story-that-takes-place-in-a-waiting-room)

It is early spring, but already hot.   I tend to forget that it is never cold here and warm is normal and for locals today is not an especially hot day.   Back home in the Midwest,  this time of the year can be variable,  warm days of spring thaw followed by cold winds and even snow storms.  This place could use some cold wind blowing through,  it is not the most pleasant place to be.  

I’m never sure if I might be labeled practical or if it goes beyond that to downright cheap but this decision is not one of my best.  I can tell that already.

I am in Southern California and I have orders to report to a new base north of here.  I lightly touch the packet in the inside pocket of my jacket to reassure myself I still have my necessary papers, money and identification.   I have so little experience with life but isn’t this what I wanted when I enlisted?   Didn’t I want to see the world and all the wonders and different people living on this planet?  Well I am committed now!  Or maybe I should be committed now as I have already seen enough of humanity to understand that even city born,  I am naive and the world is a strong strange mixture of poor and poorer folks.  

Touching again the packet in my chest pocket, I reassure myself my money and papers are safe.   That is the real joke,  a joke on myself,  I have money but I always work hard at saving it instead of spending it.  That is how I come to be in this Greyhound bus station early in the morning heat with a variety of humanity.  I could have taken a train or even flown,  but I had the time so why not see the real world.  This appears to be it...the real folks.

I have three hours to wait but I never leave anything to fate.  I arrive early to guarantee myself a seat.  I’m lugging my duffle bag with all my worldly possessions and I sit in the heat,  my eyes and mind taking in the newly arriving people.

A young mother sits across from me and down the bench a few places.  She is alone with an infant wrapped in a blanket and a small cloth bag for a suitcase,  she is nursing the baby, the blanket drawn over herself for privacy.  I try to avoid her as I scan the room but she draws me like a magnet.  About my age, I think,  but already with responsibility for another life,  she looks calm, resolved or even a bit bored.   I cannot think too much about her as I find myself being concerned for her safety but she isn’t my business.  

At the end of that bench,  a middle aged man with two young sons and two goats,  yes goats,  that is adding to the smell that seems to permeate everything in here.  There is not enough air and the smell seems to hang in a curtain over everything.  Why do they have goats?  Surely they can’t take goats on the bus!  

In the corner, a young couple.  He looks like a wise guy,  cocky and full of himself.  He keeps slicking back his hair and checking his reflection in the glass panels.  She looks incredibly young like someone’s little sister but they are definitely a couple as he regularly touches her to tell the world that he claims her as his own!

A bit of a disturbance occurs as an elderly couple arrive,  the man trying to manage two suitcases and assist his wife who has some trouble walking.  They are moving slowly and a line of annoyed folks are forming behind them.  Soon I fear there will be pushing and shoving.   A Greyhound attendant comes to the aid of the elderly gent, helping him with his bags and the crowd begins to move again.  

I check my watch!  Still a long time before departure,  a long time for more people and smells.  From somewhere nearby the smell of heavy greasy fried food.  It becomes almost too much to bear but if I leave this seat,  I will end up standing somewhere nearby so I just close my eyes and try to think of what the time ahead may hold.  I remind myself,  you wanted to learn about life,  this is the lesson for today.

The speakers are announcing times and gates,  first in English and then in Spanish.  I always have trouble understanding so I  listen hard.  It always sounds garbled but it is repeated several times.  Folks are nervously gathering their bundles and bags.   

The attendant approaches me and tells me the bus will be totally filled so I must check my duffle bag into the luggage compartment with the other suitcases.   Everything I own is in that bag,  I cannot afford to lose it but he insists there will be no room on the bus proper.  Reluctantly I follow him to the area where I will get my baggage claim ticket.  I check the padlock that keeps the heavy straps closed and I walk away.   I am worried but I have no choice!

I move to the gate number shown on my ticket.  The seat where I had been sitting now has two middle age women sitting there, they are  rapidly conversing in Spanish.

I check my watch again.  I listen to the constant garbled announcements trying to get enough information to get me safely aboard the bus.  I am worried about my duffle,  I have already heard stories of how many are stolen as they are easily pawned and it would cost me, out of my own pocket to replace the uniforms and required gear.  I look to the bus where a wheeled cart has taken bags to load in the under compartments of the bus.  I see my duffle.  It seems things are ok!

Thank heavens, finally the announcement to load!  Without the weight of the duffle bag, I quickly make my way to the bus.  Loading is going quickly!  The man , his sons and his goats load just behind me!  I look for a seat with a working window,  I hope for fresh air!  The smell of food being brought on board mixes with bodies too warm from the heat,  add the goats, and someone in the seats behind me smells of whiskey,  yes an open window is necessary!  I hope the bus moves soon.  I touch the packet in my inside pocket.  It is still there but then it occurs to me that all that touching is like a signal to a thief that something valuable is in my pocket.  I must try to be calm,  it will all be ok.

A baby cries, and goats bleat,  pieces of conversation float about and the whiskey breath behind me belches loud and fragrant.  With a roar and the smell of diesel fuel, the bus gets underway!  

Wind at last from my window!  I find myself smiling as in my imagination I see most of  myself hanging out the small window gulping the hot dusty air of Southern California.