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A woman stands in front of me at the bus stop. She is probably in her late 60s and has maroon hair, almost the exact shade of her dark lipstick. She is wearing a fur coat that falls past her knees. Around her shoulders is a fox, complete with head and tail. She looks lonely, and pretty soon is talking with one of the other waiting bus riders who looks startled to be addressed. I wish I could speak Bulgarian to ask where she got the fox.
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An old man pulls himself onto the bus just before the doors close. He holds onto the pole next to the door of the bus and swings into the chair held up by the same pole he is holding on to. As he settles in the seat, the warmth of the bus prompts him to do something with his hat. Not wanting to hold it, he pulls it up until it is perched on the very top of his head. His large ears are free to warmer temperature on the bus. His hat slouches in the middle, but poofs at the top. He looks like Popeye.
At the next stop, a man in a warm, corduroy fedora-type hat enters the bus. He is maybe a decade younger than Popeye, but has seen many years himself. As he settles in his seat, the pins in his hat glit in the sunlight. It looks like they are military pins, but I could be wrong. As the door to the bus closes, he raises his hand in a half wave half salute to his friend who is waiting for a different bus.
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What is a bus ride without the 7 teenage boys standing in the connection between the two halves of the 5? The bus has a swiveling center that allows the turns needed to accommodate the streets on this long bus. The boys all have at least one ear bud in, preventing them from hearing anything but the music coming through their phones. They usually are laughing and talking about something, and they get on and off in a hurry, greeting each other as they get on and see a school friend, or calling their goodbyes as they jump off the bus at their stop.
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A man with two tattoos sat on the seat to the right of the doors. His tattoos were tears, one right below the other. There were only a few people on the bus and I wondered if the tattoos were signs of jail or just a misguided youthful decision. In the US, such a person would be avoided. Here, as the bus filled, a teenage girl plopped down next to him without hesitation, and continued her conversation with her friend, one ear bud in her ear and her phone being used to gesture with the enthusiasm of a teenager talking about her favorite band.