Day two of my bus riding adventure was postponed by an act of war. Yes, dear readers, we American's are involved in yet another war. And of course, the liberal media (a wholly owned subsidiary of News Corp) has failed to bring it to your attention. They're probably trying to hide yet another thing this awful president with a lowly 60% approval rating and a massive list of social and economic successes has allowed to happen. So allow me to inform you of the latest developments: The attack came by surprise in the middle of the night. At 4am on February 1st, 2011, Canadian weather waged war on the state of Texas, concentrating its most brutal attacks on the city of Dallas. We woke up to a catastrophic war zone. Nearly 2 inches of solid ice blanketed our fair city, crippling our non-existent defenses against such weather systems. It was an abomination. It brought our means of transportation and economic proliferation to a grinding halt. Everything closed, with the notable exception of the brave patriots at 7-11.
We do not posses salt trucks, snow plows, or even shovels with which to tend to our own driveways. We were caught helpless and unaware, with our proverbial thermal underpants down. (We don't have those either.) 13 degree temperatures ravaged our meager insulating preparations, designed to combat heat instead of cold. They must have known that our homes are designed to retain cold air, thus making their plot as ruthless as it was ingenious. The ravages of their low pressure systems brought our temperature down to degree marks that our thermometers were not built to handle.
So I got Tuesday off of work. I'm sure one day it will be declared a national holiday, but again, with the dirty liberal media outposts in this country that refuse to report on anything but what their corporate owners deem necessary, the heroes of this day may forever go unsung.
Wednesday we were called back into the office. The ice was still present, and as fresh as the horrors lodged deep within our hearts and minds. Unspeakable horrors like having to wear a sweater and a coat at the same time. I won't go into detail, but scarves were involved.
I drove to work. Bus resolution fail. I did it, and I'm not proud of it, but at least I'm honest. Barely able to forgive myself, I resumed the bus riding again on Thursday. The trip to work was lovely. DART win. The story of the trip home, however, is a story of almost unbelievable proportions.
The 463 picks me up a mere 40 feet from the front door of my building at 5:31PM sharp, Monday through Friday. Or at least it is supposed to. On this fated day it arrived after 6PM. Don't worry, driver, I love standing outside in 3 degree wind chill.
Finally, the bus arrived. Having grown up as a white male in middle class America, I expected a drury ride home full of complaints and malicious remonstrations of the mass transit system from my fellow passengers. Surely we would brood and commiserate on our unfortunate circumstances. Instead, the hypothesis posed in my last post (go here: http://politifarce.blogspot.com/2011/02/transitional-thoughts.html) was proven. I am the outsider here. The sore thumb. The stranger in a foreign land. You see, the atmosphere on the bus that cold, dark night resembled a reunion of old army buddies more than it did the reality of the situation. It was...fun. Virtually everyone was talking to everyone else. Exciting stories of the days events were shared and enjoyed. Jokes were made at no one's expense, many of which were shockingly creative and funny. And I don't mean that 'within the context of an otherwise miserable situation', it was genuine humor. As I said mere sentences ago, it was fun.
Why was I surprised? Because I was assuming instead of thinking. What happens within a crowd at the airport when a plane is late? Misery. Anger. Belligerent behavior, empty threats, promises of revenge in the form of economic sanctions against the offending airline. It's a catastrophe. And it is fully self induced. When we feel entitled to something, for whatever reason, we are much less likely to be able to cope with disappointment. We feel put out, inconvenienced, even cheated. But the less we expect others to do for us, the more likely we are to manufacture our own perspective. The more apt we are to turn inconvenience into pleasure, cold temperatures into warm smiles, a late bus into a good time.
How fitting then that the same man screaming at the airline ticketing agent for his inconvenience is very likely to be the same man who doesn't feel that he should help feed our poor, or care for our sick. For he is entitled to something better than the rest of us. It's similar to the illusion of the self-made millionaire. No one does anything alone, certainly not achieving success. Every employer, employee, lender, borrower, consumer, or maker that you worked with (or used) to get to where you are is just as much a part of what you did as you are. Without them, you would be both lonely and broke. How soon we forget, I guess the air up at the top is thin and slows brain function.
A successful society requires a delicate balance of self-reliance and collective effort, just like a good bus ride home. Yet the definitions that we work with to define both of those concepts are too narrow and restrictive. They are not opposites, rather they are dependent variables in a simple equation. An equation that contains many other variables, like memory and pride, but is simple to balance nonetheless.
If the poop hits the air conditioner, and society collapses upon itself, you won't find me huddled in the north 'burbs clinging to a gun and a sense of fear. You will find me in the 'hood', because at least they know how to have a good time when things aren't going their way.
Agree or disagree, thanks for reading, and thanks for thinking.
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