I'm at the bus stop, waiting for my bus to arrive, curiously observing my surroundings. There are people whooshing by on their bicycles, occasionally dinging their bell when some negligent pedestrian, most often an inconsiderate teenager, occupies the bicycle path.
I watch them, the bicyclists not the teenagers, feeling a bit guilty because I always take the bus instead of cycling. I check the time on my new iPod, considering borrowing a bike and actually doing it for once rather than thinking about it and having a guilty conscience. It seems that faith doesn’t want me to lose some weight because I’m already a bit late which is not typical for me. Also, it’s still too cold to ride a bike so I quickly abandon the idea, trying to ignore the fact that there are lots of people cycling so it probably isn’t that cold. I try to occupy my guilty mind with one of the most inspiring things in the world – watching random people.
Bicyclists pass by too fast for me to take a good look at them, unlike my fellow bus-goers; most of them hang around long enough for me to think up their life stories. Not everyone is interesting enough though, after years of watching people my standards are pretty high. A blue-haired girl dressed like a hippie, for instance, doesn’t meet the criteria. She’s probably frustrated because she’s always been just a bit too chubby to fit in so she’s trying to make friends by being different. I seriously doubt that her vivid blue hair helps her in any way.
Before I manage to find someone worth my time, the bus I’m waiting for arrives. I take one last look at the people whooshing by, promising myself that I’ll get up early enough to cycle to the university tomorrow, looking forward to watching bus passengers for the next fifteen minutes.