Creative Control

Miscellaneous Mental Musings of an Emerging Artist

Public Transit, Personal Space.


Robin and I are on a southbound bus heading to his school. A woman storms to the front of the bus to tell the driver that the man sitting near her refuses to turn off his music, which he is listening to without headphones, and that he insulted her when she insisted he turn it off. The driver yells back:

“No music without headphones.”

The woman returns to her seat. The man mumbles something to her. The woman yells back at him that he and his music are offensive. The conversation turns into a shouting match in which the woman cuts loose with strings of curses and invective in between telling the man to Shut Up Shut Up Shut Up Shut Up Shut Up and finally to Get The Fuck Off This Bus.

The man does get off the bus, offhandedly telling her to:

“Go ahead and vote for Trump.”

The woman responds, somehow more livid than before:


After he’s departed, she says to nobody in particular:

“Some people are just pieces of shit. I apologize.”

Robin had been growing confused and nervous and I had to keep reassuring that things were going to be okay. I’m not near enough to her to say what I want to say as we get off the bus and I doubt I would have because I had to focus on Robin.

“You could hear his music and it offended you. Everybody on this bus, including my son, heard the language and tone you used when you chose to go back to the same seat and keep arguing with him. Do better next time.”

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This entry was posted on September 21, 2016 by in Chicago, Fatherhood, Society.
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