Ode to Public Transit

I'm sheeple. I came to that realization today. I'm just like everyone else in the daily grind, I'm a sheeple. Every day when I get to the ferry terminal I watch a herd of people running off of the ferry, bolt up the ramp and sprint as fast as they can to the waiting buses. I sit in a spot where I can watch the event, which I equate to a lower scale Running of the Bulls. Running of the Suits is what my twisted little brain has been calling it.

Today was different. I watched the Running of the Suits in my usual spot and smiled at the rush. Hey, it's amusing, you'd giggle too. I boarded the ferry as usual and sat in my usual spot. On the right, at the back, closest to the window so I can watch the Chemul get smaller as I get farther away and closer to home. I like watching it get smaller lately, the Chemul has definitely lost it's charm for me in the last couple of weeks. That's a whole other story though that we're just not touching it.

Anyway, as usual, I digress ... when my choppy, windy ride was done I started running for the bus. I became a player in the Running of the Suits. Only I'm running in pigtails, a toque and pink work boots. I'm a sheeple. A twisted one, but a sheeple nonetheless. All I could do was laugh at myself while I showed the driver my transfer slip and sit my chubby white ass at the back of the bus.

I watched a very young girl with a cane; listened to a conversation about the differences in Quebec versus France conversational French; saw a young couple display the fact that they are very much in love (blech); listen to art students discuss a new sculpture project and how they prefer photography and it's many avenues of creativity; and, was asked where I bought my eyelashes because they were great. Kind of fun to tell that poor overly made-up girl that they were mine with a little mascara, no fakies here. I sort of felt sad for her though, if you slapped the back of her head her face would fall off. Too much make-up is not a good thing.

So, today I discovered I'm just like everyone else. Only I'm the everyone else who sits and the back and watches the group, takes in the sights and sounds and behaviours of the other sheeple around me. Loves the older couple at the bus stop who hold hands while waiting for their bus that she passes every morning. Loves the driver who tell every single passenger to have a lovely day in her British accent when they get off the bus. Loves the gentleman who works at the ferry terminal who holds the door for me every afternoon. Loves the guy with the huge fro that stands about a foot off of his head and out passed his shoulders who listens to his iPod much too loudly while he waits for his ferry to Alderney Gate. Loves the chilly, salty air in the afternoon. Loves the city lights across the harbour. Loves the homeless man that smells like pee who asked me to marry him.

Loves the city.

I don't mind being the same as everyone else, they're all different just like me. All our own quirks and habits, experiences and lives. I don't want Alyson Metro Transit anymore, that would be one hell of a lonely ride.

Just a rant ...

I'm supposed to be working. Not doing a very good job of it though. I guess that's the problem with being trusted to get work done from home is that it's very easy to slack off. Truth is, I just don't have it in me to pay enough attention. I spent all weekend thinking about the stuff I had to get caught up on at work; spent Sunday trying to figure out what time I was going to get to work after my appointment with the school and the errands I had to run before I got on that ferry; and then, spent this morning thinking about either getting to work earlier than expected or running around downtown for a little while enjoying a crisp March morning in the city.

I opted for getting there earlier which was good because I spent the rest of the day getting caught up on emails, server back-ups, burning photo DVDs, taking meeting minutes, chasing inspection updates, scratching my head when trying to get my filing in order and making lists of stuff I have to move to the server in the morning before I update again. I still have to clean out my drawer and put my coveralls in the dirty basket to be taken to the cleaners along with the rest of some pics I have to file.

OH EHM GEE!! I am obsessed! Work. Good ole work. Here I am, at 21:19 hours on my work laptop trying to type up meeting minutes before I start updating a spreadsheet that will only have to be updated tomorrow when I get back to my little shipyard trailer. I think I'll give up and type up some of the notes before I forget how to read my swiftly scribbled, far from neatly written hen-scratch of personal shorthand. Other than that, I'm done. I don't get paid to work from home anymore so honestly, I'm going to lay on the couch and watch some guilty pleasure TV while I ponder other things. Things that don't involve the refitting of an oil rig. Excuse me, accommodation and supply rig.

The house is eerily quiet except for a few small noises. I can hear Chloe talking in her sleep. The hummm of my washer. The TV is mumbling away. The keys are clicking while I type. An odd tiny meow from the kittens. And every now and then, a whistle from my budgies. All that noise and I'm still finding it quiet. Weird.

I have to go grab the phone ... this quiet is driving me crazy ... I think I'm getting used to hustle and bustle of busy mornings getting the babies ready and out the door which is quickly followed by listening to strange conversations on the bus. Once the bus is done, it's the ferry terminal and smiling at the Tim Horton's lady while she makes my tea. They're getting to know me and my order but I'm thinking that's because I tip well. Then the ferry ride which is usually quiet but it's off the ferry and down the hill to the shipyard where I spend my days doing what I already listed in the beginning of this post. Once I'm in my trailer I'm surrounded by people and rush and conversation. The day ends and I either jump in the car with Superman where I stare at him singing along to music and wonder what happened to us and why I still feel so close to him even though we're no longer together and just clinging onto a friendship. If it's not Superman, it's the ferry that is followed by a half an hour wait for a bus to go get Little Miss and my Little Man. Conversation about their day and we're off to get Miss Lily. Home. Homework. Showers. Pajamas. Snuggles and bed lunch. Goodnight kisses and hugs. Retrieving cars from the floor and finding a good story for Miss Lily to read because she has to read the stories now. She's a damn good reader and much too smart for her age at times. Downstairs I go when they get in bed and snuggle in to watch TV or work or eat my face off. Maybe a phone chat. Check Facebook. Read stupid, vapid, shallow celebrity gossip. Then this happens ... the quiet. Most times very welcomed and other times, like tonight ... just nice, just right, just weird.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot the laundry ...