Getting to Work

I leave the apartment at 8 am and make the short walk to the bus stop. I’m at the beginning of the route, so the bus is always on time. The bus fills up quickly as it winds its way through the village of Lane Cove before entering the freeway towards the city. The morning ride is smooth and quiet, and I pass the time reading essays by David Sedaris, shaking my head at his curious brand of insanity. I put my book away as we cross The Harbour Bridge, savoring the morning sunshine glinting off the harbour, the opera house, the ferry terminal, before descending into the mayhem of the central business district. I exit the bus at the Wynyard Train station. Every morning by the entrance, an aboriginal man plays the didgeridoo. Sometimes I put a dollar in his painted bowl because I enjoy hearing the music; sometimes he is busy talking on his mobile phone.

I enter the train station and ride the escalator down into a maze of subterranean commerce. I buy some dim sum or a sushi roll and munch on my breakfast as I stroll amongst the hurried commuters, past news agents, bakeries, fruit stands, shoe stores, little cubby holes packed with suits dropped off for alterations, grocery stores, McDonalds, gigantic food courts – a whole other city beneath the city. I climb the ramp to George Street and hop onto one of the dozen or so buses that goes to the University of Sydney.

Jerking along the concrete canyons, I entertain myself by cataloguing my observations.

Advertisements on the backs of buses: A brand of men’s underwear is called AussieBum. The latest movie releases are splayed across the backs of Silver Cabs. Cuervo Gold turns mates into Amigos. Corona – from where you’d rather be…

Buildings: The old cathedral that has been renovated into modern loft apartments. Trios of stately griffins with large globes resting on their backs serve as sentinels over the entrance to Broadway. The ornate tarnished copper trim of the Queen Victoria Building oozes turquoise under the morning sun. A magnificent frieze of kangaroos and emus with stone ribbons draped between their mouths adorns the Australian Post building. Small sandstone block churches are tucked between glass and steel skyscrapers.

People: The round old man with a faded pot leaf on his t-shirt. The healthy young student with creamy breasts heaving out of the top of her summer dress. The man in a striped suit smoking a cigarette while picking his nose. The policeman handing a ticket to the woman in a wheelchair. The hunch-backed Asian woman handing out magazines. The boys in too-tight jeans and fluorescent-colored flip-flops holding hands as they cross the street. The man with a tattooed face drinking beer on a bench and laughing maniacally at some private joke. People of every color, shape, and smell. No one smiles on the bus downtown. I try to make a point of it. The reflected expressions suggest I am to be avoided.

Sound Bytes: The Good - As the bus rounds the corner by Central Station, a magnificent African couple is standing on the corner. He is dressed in a sharp tailored suit; she is wearing a dramatic bright yellow and black dress. So stately, so exotic, so beautiful. The woman behind me, seeing my head turn to stare in amazement says “Isn’t she gorgeous! I was just thinking what a wonderfully diverse city we have. So many cultures. It’s just great.” I reply, “I hope she feels the warmth. I’d hate to think she is self conscious because everyone is staring at her.” The Bad – A throng of young Asian girls is gathered in a plaza. A man in a tuxedo waves to the crowd. The girls squeal with delight and admiration. A young British student behind me who has been twittering with the Scottish lass next to her for several painful kilometers says “Well, that’s a bloody lot of chinks.” The Ugly - A middle aged skin head boards and pays his fare. He asks the bus driver if the bus goes down Parramatta Road. I don’t hear the driver’s reply, but the skin head, walking down the aisle suddenly yells over his shoulder, “CUNT!"

Every morning, I nod a salute as the bus crosses Galbourn Street where AC/DC played their very first public performance. I gleam at the swans swimming in the ponds in Victoria Park. I marvel at the pulsing surge of humanity surrounding me.

I am completely over stimulated by the time I get to work!