Dear Fellow Megabus Rider,
I know a few things about you.
For starters, like me, you have somewhere to go and you’re not independently wealthy.
I can tell you work out. From the looks of it, you’ve been hitting the homeboy workout pretty hard.
You like to be well-groomed. The lines on your hair and beard were fierce. You could cut someone with those.
You recently went shopping. How do I know? Because you pulled a brand new screwdriver out of your bag – it still had the tag on. You took off the tag, put it in the trash, and then put the screwdriver in your pocket. I’ll be honest; that struck me as unusual.
Right before you had your rendezvous with the screwdriver, you jumped around for about 30 seconds and hurled your backpack off over your head. And let me say, that also struck me as odd.
After you put the new screwdriver in your pocket, you paced around for about a minute, put your backpack back on, paced around some more, and then you walked away, looking over your shoulder a couple of times as you vanished into the crowd. You left your enormous duffle bag sitting in the corner, right next to the soda machine.
And I do mean your duffle bag is enormous. You could fit, oh I don’t know what, in there. Explosives, maybe? Lots and lots and lots of explosives.
Dude. Where are you? Come back and get this enormous, and might I add potentially deadly, duffle bag.
Should I alert the authorities? What authorities? I’m here sitting in a bus station waiting for a Megabus. No one is particularly attentive to what is going on in this part of town.
Um, seriously. That huge bag is just sitting there in the corner, ownerless. Does anyone else see this? Is anyone else concerned?
Finally, the bus arrived. I was so happy to stand in line, so I didn’t have to feel the pressure of the most likely benign duffle bag weighing on me. But alas. That bus was heading for a different destination, so I sat back down along with my fellow travelers and waited. I also stole glances at your bag, which I know you couldn’t have forgotten.
When I first arrived at the terminal, your big old bag was in the seat next to me, but after I sat down, you looked at me, came over from your corner to pick it up, and put it in the corner with you. That’s why I noticed you in the first place. Initially I thought it was chivalrous of you to move your bag so I could sit more comfortably. Later I began thinking it was chivalrous of you to not want me to be at the epicenter of the detonation.
Eventually you returned, you collected your bag, and you got on a bus heading for a destination that was not mine. I assume you left the enormous bag in the corner simply because you didn’t want to lug such a monstrosity around the bus station with you. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved when I realized we were riding different buses.
You be careful out there,