Life of a Commoner

Standing under the scorching sun on a December afternoon with the heat penetrating through my shoes that made it impossible for me to set my foot straight for long as I waited for the bus, I felt a twitch in my cheeks just when my lips curled up into a smile. Yes, under circumstances where I was supposed to freak out of my brains, I was enveloped by utter calm, touched by the spell of a commoner.

It had been an out of the ordinary day, with exception to me making immature decisions; declining an invitation to hitch a ride with a friend who lives a block away from my home, I decided to go by the public bus all by myself, which makes the incident worth penning down. The consequence of my decision got me standing on an unfamiliar road, for the time that seemed like an eternity, waiting for the bus that would get me home, after wasting about an hour opting for the wrong bus and going half way in the opposite direction of my home.

Enough with the prologue, the eccentric tranquility that I was bounded by was triggered by the faces unknown to me who stood alongside me accustomed to waiting for the bus. I felt like one of them, the weary civilians impatient to return to their homes after getting their butts busted at work, saving up those extra pennies traveling by bus when they could afford the luxury of a cab or even get some second-hand car, but decide otherwise: living a rather tough life to make sure that the future of their families remains secure. I felt at home, at peace, albeit I was under the naked sky exposed to possible dangers of things-I-don’t-even-want-to-think-about.

For once, not passing by a bus stand, looking through the rolled down window of my car at the common man waiting up on the bus wondering what it must feel like, but actually living through it myself, I was filled with respect for the daily bus traveler.