The man at the front of the bus is listening to music.
Look at him up there, all funkified. Why, that young man is positively alive with
rhythm.
Or so he would have us believe. We have, after all, no idea what’s being
piped from his iPod to his head, but whatever it is, he feels it strongly.
And he wants us to know it.
He’s like a metronome, this guy!
I turn off my own iPod, the better to watch him.
Frankly, one rarely sees this kind of dedication to
continual movement outside of toddlerhood, but there he is, head bobbing, lips
moving, eyes narrowed in a righteous groove.
In no time, it seems he’s reached the chorus; and I watch as his lips
form the same shapes, over and over, picking up speed and, to be honest, a
certain fervor.
This chorus, in the right hands, will inspire nations.
As it is, however, it’s inspiring an all-over body twitch.
Grand Master Lip Synch points to the left, points to the
right. Ticking rhythmically, he points
to the sky, nodding significantly.
There’s spiritual involvement here. He’s sure of that.
And GMLS wants to give thanks.
Of course, all semi-amusing things must come to an end; and
my stop comes before I’ve had my fill of the visual cadence of the man at the
front of the bus.
It’s all for the best, really.
There’s been a man dancing to Foreigner on a boom box at the
tennis courts near where I normally de-bus, as we in the bus-riding class like to
say, and I don’t want to burn out on the local color too quickly.
