Freeway Birds

A couple of hours after the bus departed Springfield, Massachusetts that morning, we stopped in NYC, where every seat became full. Before this, I was able to read quietly, as there were few passengers. But the influx of bodies and noise distracted my attention, so I closed the pages. Sitting there, I observed the small world thriving inside the bus.

The wide-eyed, middle-aged woman who sat next to me was frantically flipping through a book on different bird species, occasionally pulling out binoculars. She’d look out the window at the colors of towns and trees speeding by, then lower them, muttering about how the bus was moving too fast. She made notes after each unsuccessful observation, and from what I could tell, nearly every page was over-flowing with scribbles. I was intrigued, but could only watch her out of the corner of my eye - to avoid awkwardness. I slowly looked around, taking in who else was on this journey across the country with me.

On the other side of the aisle was a woman in her mid-20’s with her two children, around 5 and 7 years old. She stared at her phone, rapidly texting as the rambunctious kids jumped around next to her. They had a toy train and rolled it over the top of the seats in front of them; the irritated occupants turned towards the mother without speaking, but she didn’t notice. The boy then smushed his face against the window and began licking it; the girl started yelling. This was the only time their mother looked up and casually told them to be quiet - she didn’t even mention her son licking the window. Again, she focused her attention on her phone, allowing her children behave wildly. The couple in front of them turned once more and asked for her to control her kids. She passively waved her hand at them without looking up, and they spun back around cursing under their breath. I passed my eyes over the other passengers, then leaned my head back.
         
The large man in front of me was in an argument on the phone. He spoke with intensity, so I listened in and tried to piece together his situation. Into the receiver he said “they” were no longer friends, he was secretly seeing his girlfriend. It became evident his friend was denying it, as the caller accused him again and again. He said his now ex-girlfriend showed him all the lingerie she received as gifts - I cringed uncomfortably, but wanted to know more about the scandal. As the conversation continued, the young man became angrier and louder. The lady in front of him was annoyed, and reprimanded him, but he ignored her, and she cursed in Spanish. I then learned the reason for his trip; he found out about the affair and packed up - he had no one left and no reason to stay. I sympathized, thinking how terrible his situation was. After he stood his ground refusing to go back, it got worse. He said he was going to propose that evening and had the ring in his pocket at the time. I didn’t mean to, but I let out a light gasp and the bird woman looked at me. He said he threw the ring at her and began gathering a few of his things while she hysterically begged him to stay. The Spanish lady yelled once more and the man told her to stay out of his business. A voice came over the loud speaker repetitively telling the furious man to get off his phone. Not listening, the man continued to let out rage upon his now ex-friend, and then suddenly stood up and shouted as the driver told him to sit down; “Stop this damn bus! I need to get off! Now! It’s a goddamn emergency!” Luckily, we had just made a stop in Pennsylvania and had not gotten back on the highway just yet. The bus pulled over and the large man stormed down the aisle and out of our tiny world on wheels. A part of me was slightly disappointed that I didn’t get to hear more of the story.
         
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the bird lady pull her oversized purse up onto her lap. When she unzipped it, I couldn’t help but look at her inquisitively. I gained a deeper understanding of her bird obsession, for she carried birdseed, small photographs of birds, a notebook titled “Birds I’ve Seen”, and a sketchpad. She pulled the pad out and continued to work on a drawing of herons. I watched until I heard something.
         
On the other side of me, the two young kids were playing tug-of-war with their train. The mother was starting to nod off, but her head kept jerking up at the shrieks of her children. She didn’t seem to care and would let her head hang again. All of a sudden, the kids started crying in unison; they dropped their train and it slid forward beneath the seats. Two rows up, an elderly man caught it and unsteadily brought it back. When he got to their seats, he said to the mother, “When I was young, I would get smacked for that kind of behavior.” Then he turned and slowly made his way back to his wife. I could just barely hear her murmuring: “Son of a... Gonna tell me... raise my...” I uncomfortably diverted my attention out the window.
         
The pinks and purples in the sky were becoming consumed by darkness, and some people started to lean back and close their eyes, some turned on their dim overhead lights and read. My bizarre companion through the states was up, still reviewing bird facts, so I turned on my light and took my book out of my backpack. Opening it, I became pleasantly entertained by the thought that this was only the beginning of this long bus ride.


(1000 words - Writer's Cramp Contest)