bussing life

originally posted jul 13 2007 on myspace

yesterday morning i took my car into the mechanic's. i take it to duratune, at 38-1/2 and I-35. they've worked on my old, paid-for miata for years and have good experience with keeping older cars running.

i explain to philip, the owner, that one of my miata's retractable headlights has jammed, and the passenger window is stuck in the "up" position, and the crank broke when i tried using force.
he writes this down and says he'll call me once he gets into it and has an idea of how to fix these problems. i fill out the rest of the form, leave the key, and start walking.

i'm walking south on red river towards my workplace in the capitol complex. i could, and have, walked this before, but i think i might want to catch a bus if i don't have to wait.

i approach a young man at the st. david's bus stop to ask if i can get directly downtown from there. he says yes. and just then, the red river bus pulls up!

i love these moments of serendipity or synchronicity or whatever you want to call it when what i desire shows up right when i desire it, and everything is a greenlight GO. i feel blessed, like the universe is smiling on me.

i stuff my dollar into the slot and take a seat. i have an attitude about riding the bus, that it is a good thing to do occasionally. don't get me wrong--i love having a car, but riding the bus is a broadening experience.

people ride the bus for many reasons. they are poor and don't have a car, or perhaps they can't drive, or they really do care that much about the environment, or they are like most of the rest of they world, accustomed to using mass transit daily. whatever. it's an opportunity to sit among a diverse assortment of people.

and capital metro buses are clean and air conditioned.

i am on the bus, looking at my fellow bus riders, seeing who's there. a young couple with a baby, a well-dressed man from india or the middle east, an older man wearing glasses and a hat who was reading a book, a young woman, and so forth. everyone is minding their own business. even the young couple doesn't talk.

the bus crosses MLK, and i pull the cord to get off at the next stop, which is the UT school of nursing 3 blocks from work. i exit the bus and start walking down the sidewalk. the young woman disembarks too and is walking behind me in the same direction.

then i hear her say, "excuse me, ma'am."

i turn. "yes?"

"did you know your shirt is on inside out?"

"pardon me?"

"your shirt is on inside out. the tag is on the outside."

i feel the tag myself, confirming her observation. i am walking down the sidewalk just like a normal person, but with my shirt on inside out.

i thank her for telling me. then i feel embarrassed. how did this come to be?

i remember reaching in my closet, grabbing the shirt off a hanger, and hurriedly putting it on. it's a hippie shirt. not vintage but in that style--made of gauze with a mostly blue patchwork print, three-quarter bell sleeves, slits at the side seams, embroidery around the neckline, and a tie of embroidery thread. looks good with my bell-cut jeans, reminds me of my youth. it's hard to tell the seams are on the outside, but they are.

it must have been on the hanger inside out, because when i put away laundry, i was in a hurry and didn't notice. that's my story, and i'm sticking to it.

i laugh at the wonder of myself, and realize i can change it to right-side out when i get to work. i enjoy the rest of my walk, across waterloo park and into the REJ building.

and so now i have a new category of people to add to those who you might encounter riding the bus or walking down the street: perfectly normal people with their clothing on inside out. i am amongst them.