The Banana Peel and Other Observations

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The Unfortunate Notions From An Almost-Monthly Commute

1 One Angry Man

It’s Monday, 9.50 AM. I stand in the white snow waiting for the bus that will take me to another city further up North.

I hear a yell. It’s an angry, loud yell that turns into a furious, on-going rant. The person ranting is a middle-aged man with a hanging belly, built slowly during the years of heavy drinking. He’s mad at everyone and everything he sees and hears and most of all, he is angry at the world and the way the world has decided to organize itself.

I turn away and try to let his voice blend into the monotonous sounds of the traffic.

2 One Banana Peel

Fifteen minutes later, at 10.05 AM, I have taken my seat on the bus and begun my five-hour journey along the coast to a town I used to live in. Twenty-or-so minutes in, I notice a banana peel squeezed between the window and the seat in front of me. I’m amused and appalled at the same time. I wonder if it’s my duty to do something about the sad yellow thing that is categorized as bio waste: should I pick it up and take it to the trash can a few seats away from me? Or should I let it be but mention the peel to driver when I leave the bus?

Then I get curious and wonder why the banana peel is there in the first place. In my mind, I can see the chain of actions that led to this particular moment right here. How the previous passenger got hungry, ate the banana and then wondered where to put the peel. And how it clearly wasn’t a very rational thought to put it there, in-between the window and the seat where the driver wouldn’t find it and instead, it would stay there until it would begin to decompose and stink. Simply because a trash can wasn’t at the previous passenger’s arms reach.

I sigh. I sigh because of the stupidity of people, the laziness, the thoughtlessness of a human mind. And I think that it isn’t up to me to pick up the banana peel and throw it in the trash. I’m done pleasing other people, tired of being the doormat or the wallflower who does the chores no one else wants to do.

I consider myself lucky that the banana peel still seems to be pretty fresh and was  left there earlier today or yesterday.

3 One Visit to the Toilet

One-and-a-half hours into the ride and I need to pee. I stand up from my seat, walk down the stairs to the tiny toilet and do my business. After I’m finished I look around me. There’s no disinfectant to apply on my hands and neither does the water run so that I could wash my hands.

A few seconds of quick thinking and then: what else can a girl do than suck it up and be okay with germs for the rest of the ride?

I walk back up and return to my seat. During the next twenty minutes, I notice two others using the bathroom as well. As I observe them returning to their seats, I can’t help but think that I know for a fact that they haven’t washed their hands or applied any disinfectant. And because I know and I know that they know about this issue with germs, it’s as if we’re all in on the same, uncomfortable secret. Riding this bus isn’t the same anymore.

I wonder how long I should wait before finding the apple I have in my bag. I’m starting to get hungry. But the germs in my hands will then transfer to that apple which I will take a bite of and then the germs will get inside me.

Well. Maybe that’ll help me build up a better immune system?

Let’s hope for that.

4 Two Thoughts on Food

With 193 kilometers or 2 hours and 23 minutes left of my journey, I finally eat my apple, already forgetting about the germs. Funny, how priorities reorganize my mind. The sun is shining, finally, and the whiteness of the snow reflects the light back in a way that makes the world seem fresh.

In my own ears, the crunchy but juicy bites I take from my apple sound loud. But I know this to be an illusion: it is only I who thinks it’s loud but to the outside, it’s just the normal sound of chewing. A few years back, the fear of loud unboxing of sandwiches and noisy chewing kept me from eating while commuting but today I know better and don’t care anymore. Not after I realized that everyone else eats just as loudly as I do and I never hear them. So that’s that, and I reach to grab my sandwich packed in a noisy plastic wrapper.

I notice the man sitting in front of me. He’s eating a banana. It would be funny if he would try the same hiding trick as the previous passenger did and hide the peel in the same spot. Slowly but surely, a banana peel pile would have been created.

(By the way, try saying banana peel pile many times in a row. It’s fun and not at all difficult and might make you smile.)

5 Some End Notes

Suddenly, there’s only less than an hour left of the journey. Fifty minutes, to be precise. As we’ve moved more up the North, the clouds have taken over the sky and a grey heavy upper atmosphere promises snow for the night.

The good thing with this oh-so-long journey is that I’ve progressed in my reading. I listened to a few chapters of The Fountainhead, which was a pleasure, and continued to read The Secret History for an hour, digging myself deep into the crime-solving scenes of the second half of the book. I even listened to an episode of a podcast, which was an interview with Elizabeth Gilbert. Her bestseller Eat, Pray, Love never made a lasting impression on me, but after listening to that episode I was really impressed by her positive attitude to life and how she devotes herself to every book that she writes.

The journey is coming to its end. I still have 49 minutes for my thoughts, a few moments to look out from the window and let my mind wander. I notice the amount of snow: there’s more here than in the South which isn’t really surprising. I wonder if the people who live here actually like living here, the long dark winters and the short Summers with almost never-ending sunshine. I would like to know what these people do and what they believe in.

Because, although I lived in this city for a year I wouldn’t want to move back. The city is too isolated, the winter too dark and cold, and the place in all its hopefulness doesn’t offer enough alternatives for me.

In this city I feel caged in with only a limited amount of possibilities. And I don’t like that.

Luckily, I will be sitting in this bus again tomorrow, now riding it in the reversed direction. I’m already looking forward to getting home.

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