And then there are the buses.
People are nice to each other on buses in NYC in a way they aren't in parks or on streets or subways, and in a way that people are not nice to one another on buses in other places I have been. I have been reticent to speak to it for fear it would disappear. But the bus love is strong here. People stand up and let grandmothers sit down on the bus. People pay for other people to ride on the bus. There is a distinct lack of hollering on the bus. It is as though the buses have large hearts floating on top of them like in this sign; hearts that somehow withstand the insistent honking all day long. I do not know why it is this way, but it is wonderful.
{flickr, bus}
6 maids a-milking:
Perhaps, not to succumb to sentiment or anything, it is you who carry the large heart over your head. I would not be too surprised to find that true.
That's because New Yorkers are all like that in real life, underneath all the tiredness of dealing with people being in your d*mn face all the d*mn time. People live in New York because they love other people, and they want to take care of each other.
Trust me. I know that, in my bones. I spent many months living just a few 100 yards from smoking rubble, and New York became one big bus in those months. It was just a raw pulsing heart.
I LOVE THE BUS!
You paint the most magical place.
Lovely!
Sigh, to be in New York, on the bus. The bus in my town is not a happy place, it's a smelly stinky dangerous place.
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