images-2This is #23 in the growing line (that’s right, the line’s gruesome) of As I Sat On The Bus Invitational stories.
If you look at the As I Sat On The Bus invitational Archive in the Library section to your right, you’ll see contributions by other authors such as the wonderful Dawn (who has put together a terrific AISOTB series), Eric Alagon, Frizz of FlkrComments, Tornadoday (that’s Bobbie of course) and many others who have already hopped on the bus (both literally and figuratively) and who are contributors to this fine and noble mass transportation project. So try your hand too. Send in your As I Sat On The Bus (AISOTB) stories. Don’t be late or you’ll miss the bus.


Once again a writer’s thanks to the gods at the MTA who grant us so much time to compose epic poems and 500 page novels while we wait for the buses. Thank you, oh merciful gods of the MTA who so generously …….

“Not fair! Why are you always so rough on the MTA?” interrupts a squeaky voice from the wings (or is it from the back of my head?), “Because look! Here comes the bus! Stop complaining, Bumba”

Indeed. It was true. The #16 bus was coming. Life is good sometimes.


As I sat on the bus, as the bus rolled along, as passengers got off at their stops and the bus emptied, I enjoyed several long and sweet moments of calm lucidity. It was quiet in the bus. Yes the bus was chucking along making all of its regular noises, but otherwise, inexplicably, all was quiet. How rare these quiet moments! At least for me they’re rare. Most the time my mind is churning out more words or it’s busy considering some matter of world-shaking importance. The Indians call it monkey mind. Another apt word would be plain old worrying.
But, as a recorded voice announced the next stop over a loudspeaker, I knew where I was. I was reassured. And I knew that I had another couple of stops before my stop to enjoy perhaps another few moments of quiet and of peace. I had time. There was nothing to do or think about. IMG_1039