Who knew I would strike blog gold (well, maybe bronze) twice in one week? I guess it’s when you start looking for it, and start to write it down, it’s right in front of you. Literally, right in front of you, like while waiting for the bus to go home one night earlier this week.
The bus line runs past the entrance for both the men’s and women’s restrooms. The line breaks just before the doorway and starts again just after the doorway to allow people to cut through the line and walk into the bathroom. Personally, I think getting stuck in line on either side of the doorway for the bathroom – men’s or women’s – are the worst places to be stuck in line. Though, the positioning allows for interesting observations, especially since it’s the Port Authority Bus Terminal, New York City’s glorious armpit.
As I am waiting for my bus line to move, I find myself situated at the doorway for the men’s room. Many men walk in but the one who I choose to write about, walked in while talking on the phone. A few minutes later, since I haven’t moved an inch, I see him walk out of the men’s room, still chatting away on the phone.
Several scenarios could have taken place in those few minutes he disappeared from my view, yet only one question remains. Was the call (or calls, as could have been the case) THAT important?