by choice..
as i sat in the bus stop outside flea's house today, i watched an elderly gent across the road make his way down a short pathway no longer than forty meters. this was the man i had breezed past moments earlier while thinking about the pain in my left knee. i had walked a good fifteen meters past him down the path, then up the overhead bridge, across the road, down the stairs and into the adjacent bus-stop. and in all that time, this gent had moved nothing more than two meters, i swear. he shuffled his feet, inching his way towards the main road whilst leaning on the umbrella he clutched in his left hand. i watched on.
ten minutes.
he was getting closer to the main road. i could see my bus in the distance. i turned back to him.
god. he was about to attempt the staircase. he's going to be here all night. it's 8.00 pm and i'm sitting here, complaining about my knee. he should camp out by the staircase tonight, i was thinking.
my bus pulls up to the stop and the doors swing open. the driver looks to me, the only person around. and then something goes click, i smile at him and politely decline.
five minutes later and the elderly gent is on step number four. i must admit, he climbs faster than he walks.
i've just willingly missed my bus.
it's another twenty-five minutes to the next one, but i don't care.
because.
how many times, as crazy as it sounds, have i not rushed somewhere? i'm always in a hurry. to what point and purpose? how much will the events of my future be reorganised or cancelled or replaced because i chose to miss that one bus? when i was young, i would think about the consequences of my actions and that if i did something sudden and unpredictable, it would have repercussions on completely unrelated events, such as the football match on the telly. it was as though i could change the fate of everything (because i believed that they're all inter-related events) by moving quick enough to capitalise on its inertia. i would get up, make for the toilet or my room and then turn around and hop back into the couch really quickly. or i would suddenly just shout or holler. and the best bit is that while i remained young, i believed beyond doubt that had i not shouted or feigned, things would have happened differently.
i like how ridiculous it is; the notion that i chose to miss my bus.
the elderly gent made it to the top of the stairs by the time my next bus arrived. i smiled in his direction, tipped my imaginary hat, and thanked him silently, as i boarded the bus, for letting my taste life walked at his pace.
he walks slowly, but how sure his steps are.