Squish

It's the first real snowy day. I'm late for my first bus and with my clear view to the bus stop from several blocks away, I see that it's perfectly on time, so I'm stuck until the next one comes along.

By the time it arrives, there are six other people crammed into the shelter. I scramble on board, but as I anticipated there is standing room only, until 2 stops before my transfer point.

When I board my second bus it is mercifully empty, as usual, and fills up, as usual, near the apartment buildings as the school kids jump on. Also as usual, none of the young people sit with me.

But then he gets on the bus: weighing in at close to 300 lb, he is medium height, middle aged, and obviously nursing a bum leg. With nowhere else to sit, he joins me. But he sits sideways in the seat, and tries to stretch out his leg while constantly nudging backwards.

It's amusing at first, but as he keeps pressing back, and I keep getting smudged against the window, I'm growing increasingly uncomfortable. It is with great relief and an internal "Yay!" that I see us approaching the school, and the kids begin to pile off.

There are at least a dozen empty seats now, including the priority seating with its ample leg room. But he doesn't move. And he keeps pushing back. I'm starting to get a little freaked out.

But it's soon clear why he didn't move after everybody got off at the previous stop.

His is next; there's his stop.