Singing on the Bus

We have a talker on the bus. Actually he is a talker and a singer. When I sit down across from him he starts singing very loudly some top 40 hit I recognize but cannot name. Is it Janet Jackson? At first I assume he is singing along to something. It's not uncommon to see young guys rapping loudly to the hip-hop or "alternative" music of a digital player. It's the performance of mini-masculinity. But his ears contain no headphones. The song is in his head.

He actually has a nice voice. The woman sitting next to me laughs. "Hey, we've got someone for American Idol." I remain silent and bury myself in a magazine. As an L.A. bus rider, I take the New York subway approach: avoid eye contact and create an invisible wall around yourself. But in New York you feel protected by the mass ridership--a commonness felt across the city.

He stops singing and starts talking. The first topic seems to be string theory. "You see, any moment we could pass a gap in the time space continuum---Ok, see, right NOW, It could happen right NOW." Talkers scare, annoy and fascinate me. While other riders laugh or give them dirty looks, I have come to recognize that they often say quite profound and troubling things. Indeed, they are the vulgar unconscious voice of the city.

"The xanax has really helped. Yes, I feel much better now. Yes, they say I'm doing much better now. Yes, oh yes." I sneak a glance at him. His battered sneakers move rhythmically to the internal song. A white guy in his thirties with a couple weeks growth of a dirty blond beard--the scraggly beard of a young Bob Dylan, he starts singing something from Highway 61 Revisited. It's a tough song, so he mumbles through some of the lyrics.

My attention slowly shifts to some teenagers on the back of the bus. "So I smoked a bowl with her, and then she says do you want some crack." The talker turns around. "Yeah Man, that's some crazy shit!" The mocked becomes the mocker. They all get off at the next stop. My shoulders relax. I look up and stare at the now empty seat. There's no need to hide anymore.