I’m tired this morning – it’s tough to get my body out of bed and down to the bus stop, knowing that my daughter and all the pets will be just hanging out and enjoying the day at home.  But, I do it, because at least on the outside I’m responsible adult.

I secure my favorite spot on the elevated, side-facing section at the middle of the double-length bus, just before the accordion folds.  I am not sure why I like this spot – it just seems to be the most comfortable.  It’s probably because I like being elevated, that way I have a clear view of everything that goes on. 

At the stop after mine, the bus fills up rapidly.  A squirrely young man swings into the seat next to me and I just catch a glimpse of him as he turns; I’m concerned.  I’m fairly certain this is the guy that had a serious case of the crazies last week…as it turns out, I’m right.

I remember last week, it was on the way home.  I was in the Metro tunnel a little early, and had sidled up next to the large marble benches.  The tunnel, by the way, is amazingly beautiful for a transit station.  It gives a nod to Art Deco, all beige marble with oversized carved marble benches in a deep brown color, architectural details everywhere.  Each of the downtown tunnel stations is decorated differently; the International District has oversized Origami art on the tunnel walls.  At Pioneer Station, it’s a nautical theme.  University Station is the highbrow area, with the Seattle Art Museum, Library, etc., and its symbol is a pair of opera glasses.  Westlake Station, mine, is the downtown shopping district.  The frieze across from where I stand covers the gamut of celebrity, fashion, and commerce. 

But, back to last week – I sidled up to the large marble bench and sat on its corner stand.  I watched a young man, probably early to mid-20’s, walk towards me singing loudly.  He sat on the empty bench next to me, and proceeded to sing a song of his own making, using observations of what he saw around him as lyrics.  I had my iPod on but could still hear him clearly.  I have a long-standing policy of not giving attention to anyone who is clearly begging for it, particularly in an offensive or destructive way, so I ignore him completely.  He catcalled to women walking by, making continuous commentary on everyone who passed.  I started to wonder if he had a mental illness, or if he was being deliberately obnoxious.  He grew louder, and I contemplated confronting him but decided against it.  You just never know how people will react, and he wasn’t being abusive.  He hit a crescendo as the bus arrived, and we all filed onto it juggling for a position.  Once settled (I had gotten my favorite spot and was able to view the whole bus) I glanced back at where the boy sat – he’d continued singing off and on, but had lessened the offensive quotient.  When I looked at him, his eyes met mine and they were completely clear, looking directly at me.  I knew, then, that he was mentally stable, but was acting out for some reason.  I felt sad for him…he was small, frail, a bit unkempt, but nice looking.  I wondered what circumstances had occurred for him to feel that misbehaving in that way was his only ticket to being noticed.  At what point does negative attention become the substitute for the love and acceptance of family and friends?

Anyway, today he is calm and sleepy.  We ride in silence as he nods off, and I continue to wonder about the hows and whys of what made him. I wonder if there may be some opportunity for me to reach out to him someday.  I hope so.

The bus is very full now, standing room only.  There is a young Asian girl standing to my right, at the very edge of the accordion folds.  She holds on for dear life – that’s a dangerous spot to stand, because the floor of the bus has a circle that moves as a centrifugal spot working with the folds, allowing the bus to bend in half.  I notice she wears a UW headband, in purple fleece.  Then I see her jacket – it’s purple also.  The shirt she wears under her jacket is – you guessed it – purple.  I think, “She loves her college a lot!”.  I know the fans here are fierce but that is still pretty impressive for a Monday morning.

We arrive at the first stop after the freeway and a man gets off.  I didn’t notice him before, but as he walks slowly, carefully along the sidewalk toward the back of the bus all I can think is “Santa!”  He wears a crimson and white Hawaiian print shirt, of all things, with khakis and a light jacket.  Why not?  Santa needs a vacation too, I suppose, and Seattle is probably warmer than the North Pole.

After the first stop in the tunnel the bus clears a bit, and the UW fan moves into a seat across from me.  I can’t help it – I take inventory again.  She has a purple iPhone case, purple laces on her black sneakers, a purple wallet and, finally, a purple and white polka-dot umbrella.  She wins, fan of the year!