It's All About the Finger Strength

When considering the public transit system, I think Forrest Gump put it best: It's "like a box of chocolates, SOMETHING JUST JUMPED UP AND BIT ME." With that said, I believe I had the most...fulfilling bus ride the other night. I was waiting for a bus sometime in the early evening. It had been thunder-storming all day, but at the moment it was only drizzling. I saw my bus approaching and hailed it down. All I could see was a congealed mass if Colombians on the front step. But the bus had stopped, so the driver expected me to hop on. I wasn't about the let the guy down, so I clung on to what available hand bar and foot space was available and away we went. Needless to say, it was a tight squeeze. There was quite a bit of hardcore spooning going on. It was getting more intimate than I'd care to admit, but maybe it was just me. I'm not a smoker, but I felt like I needed a cigarette after that. Anyway, the ride itself was memorable in many different ways. The roads on the way to my neighborhood are in poor condition, so I had to employ my vulcan death grip to ensure I didn't get thrown from the bus as it swerved to avoid massive pot holes, oncoming traffic, stray dogs, hostile donkey carts, etc. The great part about dangling from the edge of this speeding bus was the fact that I could take in this majestic storm front. Because of the heat and humidity here, when it storms, there is constant thunder and lightning. So here I was, using all my finger strength to clutch my vicarious hold on the bus, lightning perpetually lighting up the entire night sky, soft rain gently spritzing my face, a giant blue strobe light placed by the door flustering my senses and possibly causing some slight astigmatism, and giant speakers playing inaudibly loud music at every turn. Total sensory overload. I was taking it all in when I noticed we were going to skim a roadside mango tree. Luckily, I was able to pull myself together and duck before a branch could have laid me out. Toward the end of the ride, the bus emptied out, but I remained on the step because this experience was too good to give up.

This morning, I awoke in a lake of sweat, as opposed to the wading pool of sweat I have grown used to. I noticed that my fan wasn't going, which could only mean that the power was out. Now, there are pros and cons of "the light leaving," as they say here. Although the outage leaves me without my beloved, cherished fan to pleasure me with its glorious blows, the neighborhood is much quieter due to all the speakers being nullified. I took this opportunity to read in the hammock in the back patio. Shortly thereafter, I heard someone playing loud music nearby. I checked again and the power was still out. I figured they must have a battery powered stereo or a generator dedicated to ensuring that the party never stops. I tuned it out, as I have become increasingly better at, and continued reading. Then, in Colombia's seemingly constant one-upmanship, a Cumbia band started up a couple of doors down. I had to say that I did not expect to my neighborhood play that card so far in the year from Canaval, in which the majority of Cumbia is played. Touche. I have to say, in that scenario I felt similar to the man from the classic Twilight Zone episode where he is the last man on Earth and he is left to his books with all time in the world, but his glasses fall and break. THAT'S NOT FAIR!! THAT'S NOT FAIR AT ALL!!