Earbuds

Today's subject is a mid-30s man who sits right beside me at the extreme rear of the bus. I settle on him because he's close, and I've usually selected subjects who are distant, so in a spirit of personal growth I am tentatively sliding one toe out of my comfort zone with my selection today.

He's wearing blue jeans and a faded black golf shirt. A thick yet plain wedding ring adorns his finger. His hair is what they call "salt and pepper" in hue. He's not slim, but not overweight; rather, he bears the build of somebody who used to be athletic and still retains the muscles, which sit idly, anticipating that a horde of linebackers could suddenly manifest as an obstacle through which he has to charge. But the linebackers never come.

And if they did, his tough-guy exterior would be somewhat mellowed by the soft-sided blue lunch kit he is cradling in his lap.

He's got silver earbuds which trail off into his pocket. Whatever he's playing is not loud enough for me to hear; for all I know he could be listening to music, jungle noises, or a motivational speaker. A couple of times he digs the MP3 player out of his pocket and advances the track forward, which if he's being motivated is indication that it's not helping.

Other than that, he does nothing interesting. Like most people I see on the bus, he just sits there, letting time slip by until he's back in his wife's warm embrace.

There's our stop. For once, both my subject and I get off together. Ironically, I don't have to get off here, as the bus I wish to connect with is just pulling away in front of us, and I could probably catch it at the next stop if I stay on board.

But the story has started, and it's just getting interesting, so I watch what could have been my other bus depart, all because I can't let the story end like this.

He checks the posted schedule for when his bus arrives, and settles into a secluded spot next to the bus schedule board. Immediately our attention is drawn towards a group of three young Filipino men, dressed up as if they're going to church, playing guitar and singing contemporary praise & worship songs on the nearby street corner. They're drawing a lot of stares but they keep soldiering on, singing at the top of their voices and issuing hellos to anybody who risks eye contact with them. While I doubt their labour will win any souls for the Kingdom of Heaven, I admire their courage.

I pretend to check the schedule for my own bus (I already know perfectly well when it will arrive) specifically so I can get close to my subject again. He, like all the passersby and citizens waiting for a bus, is staring at the trio of musicians, not quite sure what to make of it. I decide to risk verbal contact.

"Not exact the best way to get people interested in faith and religion, is it?" I ask him.

He pulls out his earbuds, fumbles to pause the playback, and then turns to me. "Hmm?" I repeat my opening statement. "Oh, right. Nope."

Not a man of much words then. Let's see what else I can draw out of him.

"What's weird is I actually know all the songs they're playing."

He purses his lips and nods the nod of a man who doesn't actually agree but doesn't care that he doesn't agree. No eye contact.

Now I've made it awkward for him; this should prove interesting. And indeed - voila! - he puts a single earbud back in, and in the ear opposite to me. This means that he still wants to hear his motivational speaker or jungle rain or whatever it is, but knows that since I've made an attempt to start a conversation that he can't just cut me off by inserting both earbuds without a natural end to the jump-started conversation. That would be rude. Although a prolonged period of silence would be considered a natural close, after which he may safely plug me out on both sides without fear of violating a precept of human relations.

But he has to wait for it. Or maybe not...

There's my bus.