Hemmed In

I was riding on the bus back to North Hollywood from Burbank the other day, and I was reading my Henry Miller book as I meant to. I also had my earphones in, but I wasn't listening to anything. It would have been too distracting to do so, but I feel that I'm less likely to be bothered if it looks like I'm listening to something in addition to intently reading a book (particularly if the tome is a salacious one such as I had).

At one point, a man came and sat down next to me. He then got off, and I was glad to be alone again. When a young woman got on, I expected her to sit anywhere but next to me, though free seats were not plentiful. She was pretty enough, and occupied fairly well with a phone call that seemed to concern a terribly dramatic conflict at her workplace. It was rather banal, but I couldn't help but hear when she sat next to me.

I really couldn't focus on my reading, and drowning her out with some music seemed to me a waste of an opportunity. That is to say that I hoped to make opportunity from imposition. You never know what you'll hear if you only listen. It's true enough also that you can see some amazing things if you keep your eyes open, but I was all too close to look without appearing rather predatory. I managed to get a glimpse through the pretense of gazing out the opposite window to get my bearings, but dared no more.

At long last, there was nothing of real note to be gleaned from the girl except that I remained surprised that she sat by me. I would have expected somebody like her to shy away from the likes of me, or at least from what she had to have imagined I was with nothing to go on but my looks. Perhaps I don't at all look to other as I think I do. I can hardly believe that my admittedly subjective self image is so far off the mark, but it must be so if a seat by me is preferable to one by anyone else on a city bus (to say nothing of standing).