Bus Nap
Most days I ride the bus to school at some point. It makes me wonder why and how anyone could drive.
I almost inevitably fall asleep about twenty to twenty-five minutes into it; there’s too little to do, and whatever I’m reading makes my eyelids heavy.
Pretty soon, I notice we’re not where we were before.
I’m usually relieved to find out that not nearly as much time has passed as I had thought. But it’s a guilty pleasure—not that I feel any guilt about it.
Before I think it, though, I’m in Kenmore, then downtown Bothell; where did those moments go?
Who doesn’t want life to be like this? Who imagines the unimaginable? Why take any of this seriously, or not?
One point not to be missed: I rely on the bus nap. At 3:31 in the morning, while I lie in bed planning the days ahead, I’m comforted by 4:17 that I’ll get the sleep back on the way to work, more or less. I love you, bus nap!
Today, I slept the opposite of usual, crashing out hard on the way home, after giving up in defeat to the headwind or just my eagerness to get home in time to do some things before the Husky basketball game, the most urgent of which was to participate by sending some old shoes to a shoe company, and the dream I remember was memorable, even though I can’t remember it.
In the end, everything worked out, just as I knew it would when I was floating in and out of consciousness on Sound Transit route 522 in the morning. I worry that someday the driver won’t slam on his brake fast enough to avoid being cut off by that lady talking on her cellphone and my bike will get crunched against the back bumper of an SUV, but it hasn’t happened yet, so as long as I keep napping, nothing’s worrisome enough to wake me.
I almost inevitably fall asleep about twenty to twenty-five minutes into it; there’s too little to do, and whatever I’m reading makes my eyelids heavy.
Pretty soon, I notice we’re not where we were before.
I’m usually relieved to find out that not nearly as much time has passed as I had thought. But it’s a guilty pleasure—not that I feel any guilt about it.
Before I think it, though, I’m in Kenmore, then downtown Bothell; where did those moments go?
Who doesn’t want life to be like this? Who imagines the unimaginable? Why take any of this seriously, or not?
One point not to be missed: I rely on the bus nap. At 3:31 in the morning, while I lie in bed planning the days ahead, I’m comforted by 4:17 that I’ll get the sleep back on the way to work, more or less. I love you, bus nap!
Today, I slept the opposite of usual, crashing out hard on the way home, after giving up in defeat to the headwind or just my eagerness to get home in time to do some things before the Husky basketball game, the most urgent of which was to participate by sending some old shoes to a shoe company, and the dream I remember was memorable, even though I can’t remember it.
In the end, everything worked out, just as I knew it would when I was floating in and out of consciousness on Sound Transit route 522 in the morning. I worry that someday the driver won’t slam on his brake fast enough to avoid being cut off by that lady talking on her cellphone and my bike will get crunched against the back bumper of an SUV, but it hasn’t happened yet, so as long as I keep napping, nothing’s worrisome enough to wake me.
posted by Professor Dave at 9:15 AM
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