The Bus Ride

‘Ring ring.’  The telephone’s siren has broken the peaceful silence yet again.  The people closest groan audibly as the young woman in the far back right seat answers loudly.  The conversation begins with a series of questions until finally the matter of who is who is settled and the ‘hello’s and ‘how are you’s begin.  She cradles the phone between her shoulder and ear as she picks the old, red paint off of her fingernails.  She shifts in her seat and switches between ears.  She laughs loudly at some unheard comment, tossing her head back and dropping the phone with a thud.  She hastily retrieves it, switches positions, and continues the conversation and nail picking.

A moment later the ‘hello’s and ‘how are you’s have ended.  She begins now to retell, for the twentieth time that day, the story of her vacation, the details of which the passengers around her now know as though they were their own.  She tells about the beach, the nightclubs, and the restaurants; the hotel with the cute bellboy and rude receptionist; the taxi driver who almost hit the bus in the middle of the intersection; etc, etc, ad infinitum. 

 Finally, the vacation story is over and the most wrenching part of the conversation has begun.  “So..?” she says.  “So..?”  “So..?”  That simple, seemingly benign word grates on the ears of her fellow passengers like nails on a chalkboard.  “So..?”  A bit of silence, a bit of talking, and then another “So..?”  More silence, more talking.  “So..?”  “So..?”  “So, if you have nothing to say, then hang up the fucking phone!” the other passengers scream inside their heads.  They exchange glances with each other, rolling their eyes and shooting themselves in the head with their fingers while the girl blabbers on, “So..?”  “So..?”

It’s one o’clock in the morning.  The bus is in its seventh hour and the young lady has been on the phone for at least five of those seven.  Every time she hangs up, the bus breathes a heavy sigh of relief, thanking God that the banality of her conversation is over.  And then, with every ‘ring ring’, stomachs drop and eyes close.  The people here are only too aware what it means and are only able to speculate as to how long, and how trite, this new conversation will be.

“Ok.  Ok, I will.  Ok, thanks.”  Ears perk up.  Could this be it?  Is this the end of the torture?  Necks crane as eager listeners try to catch the slightest hint that the suffering is over.  “Goodbye,” she says, and with that, smiles spread over the tired faces of the other passengers like melted butter in a skillet.  They sink deeper into their chairs, listening to the final ‘goodbye’s and ‘farewell’s and preparing for a long awaited rest in the silence of the night.  “What? Oh, haha!”  The girl’s shrill laugh cuts through the air, causing her fellow rider’s heads to jolt forward.  They stare wide eyed at the headrest in front of them, hoping to hear another series of ‘okay’s or ‘goodbye’s, anything signaling the end of the torment.

“So..?”