The man at the front of the bus is listening to music.
Look at him up there, all funkified. Why, that young man is positively alive with rhythm.
Or so he would have us believe. We have, after all, no idea what’s being piped from his iPod to his head, but whatever it is, he feels it strongly.
And he wants us to know it.
He’s like a metronome, this guy!
I turn off my own iPod, the better to watch him.
Frankly, one rarely sees this kind of dedication to continual movement outside of toddlerhood, but there he is, head bobbing, lips moving, eyes narrowed in a righteous groove. In no time, it seems he’s reached the chorus; and I watch as his lips form the same shapes, over and over, picking up speed and, to be honest, a certain fervor.
This chorus, in the right hands, will inspire nations.
As it is, however, it’s inspiring an all-over body twitch.
Grand Master Lip Synch points to the left, points to the right. Ticking rhythmically, he points to the sky, nodding significantly.
There’s spiritual involvement here. He’s sure of that.
And GMLS wants to give thanks.
Of course, all semi-amusing things must come to an end; and my stop comes before I’ve had my fill of the visual cadence of the man at the front of the bus.
It’s all for the best, really.
There’s been a man dancing to Foreigner on a boom box at the tennis courts near where I normally de-bus, as we in the bus-riding class like to say, and I don’t want to burn out on the local color too quickly.