I took the bus past my stop today, just for the hell of it. My sunglasses distorted the shade of the fading grass beyond the window, and I couldn’t help but admire the scenery. Somehow this simple, mundane task was morphing into an exciting voyage.
I was one of two passengers that afternoon, and the early sunset rays of mid-November were pouring in through the windows. Mostly, I just wanted to see where the bus was going, but I also had to know there was something more out there, that the world really did go beyond the couple bus stops past my house.
After what seemed like a dozen blocks, the houses, strip malls, and gas stations gave way to large expanses and small wooded patches. The freshly harvested fields, were more like vast clearings lying out and exposed in the dimming sunlight.
For miles maybe endlessly, the bus kept rolling along the countryside, but at a faster pace now. All the while, I smiled and enjoyed the plentiful open space. Sometimes it’s good to get away, even if it’s just to make sure there’s more to this world than what’s beyond the next intersection.
Did anything truly matter out here? There was a mystical sense that the world was infinite, and all around the horizon was in clear sight. The only few exceptions being the thickets of trees on the distant rolling hills, and a handful of grain silos reaching up to the nearly crystal-clear sky.
All this scenery could easily be overlooked by others, taken at mere face value, and maybe even shrugged off apathetically. I found it all very relieving however, like catching your breath after being whipped up into a nervous frenzy.
My mind was much clearer now, I felt like I finally had a little cerebral breathing room. Then I noticed around that time, that I was the last remaining passenger. Was there even a stop out this far? I felt like I’d get off and explore if there was, but that notion quickly passed.
The far-off farmhouses stood out as silhouettes against the sunset, it was getting late, but I wasn’t sure if I even cared. There was a hint of curiosity as to how long I’d been on the bus, but that too subsided momentarily.
As odd as it was, there was something glorious about being nowhere at all, with not a clue on how to make it “home.” I chuckled at my hesitation to use that word, but it was accurate in some sense, just not entirely the truth. It was hard to see the brick and concrete 12 pack I lived in as the ideal, cozy abode.
The bus began to head back almost immediately after I began wondering if the driver was just cruising around for my sake. There was a moment when I felt guilty, thinking that he had extended his route waiting for me to eventually pull the stop line. The sun had set for the most part, though there was still a light glow peeking out at the horizon.
For some strange reason, the drive back seemed much shorter, maybe it was because I couldn’t see outside so well. As silly as it sounds, there was a small part of me convinced that I had caught a bus with a stop in the “Twilight Zone”, I could almost hear the music. No, that was just my imagination… but it seemed plausible enough.
Nevertheless, I was soon immersed in towering apartment complexes and endless franchises once more. This time it wasn’t so bad though, the nonstop lights and cement seemed much more manageable now, even if it did stretch on for miles.
After passing through numerous intersections and whizzing by identical streets, the bus made a left followed by a sharp right. I pulled the stop line and got off near my house, the air was chilly but I still found it refreshing.
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