I went downtown today and came back to school with, among other things, "Hey must be the monay" on my mind. Which reminds me of dancing. Amy Swacina dancing in the Schutlze-Eldersveld lobby, Becky Starkenburg dancing at the SE Christmas banquet, and Sara VanderHaagen dancing at the Fountain House Poya Party. "Hey! Must be the monay!"
On the bus back to school, I laughed out loud. It's not unusual for me to chuckle to myself in public: on the street, on a bus, wherever. But today I laughed when the bus driver shut the door just before two running middle-aged woman could slip in. Before you make any judgements on my reaction or the bus driver's, let me take a few steps back. The doors were buzzing to alert passerbys that the bus was about to take off when an older, greying lady was making her way as fast as she could towards the door. The bus driver re-opened the door to let her enter and a teenaged boy offered her his seat. At this point, two middle-aged women saw the bus driver's generosity and thought they could take advantage as well. Nope. One nearly made it but didn't. And I laughed. Out-loud. I thought for a second that my fellow bus riders may think me rude. But the ladies were not hurt. They didn't seem to be in any real emergency. They were laughing, one showing her gappy smile. They just wanted to get on the bus and not wait another 4 minutes for the next. I respect the bus drivers decision to close the door on her and I think this comes from being a teacher. Everyday I make decisions on when to offer grace and when to stand firm on principle. This scene was similar. Being a silent observer, I just happened to think it was funny.
I was not laughing, however, when I got pushed into a corner of the crowded bus by two young lovers praising each other in word and touch.
