There are entire theologies, books, folklore and Hollywood blockbusters devoted to the eternal battle between good and evil. In a recent Keanu Reeves flick, Constantine, certain characters have the ability to see the great battle unfold on Earth. Reeves, for example, can identify the angels and demons disguised to the rest of the world as humans. The movie is pretty creepy, but there's one particular scene that replays in my mind. It takes place in a liquor store, just after a demon/devil figure has driven a man crazy and virtually tricked him into suicide. You see a sharp looking, well-dressed man walking around the store observing the scene and another man kneeling near the victim on the floor. At one point the handsome, suited man turns his profile to see the victim, exposing the other side of his face, which is horrifying and thus reveals his demonic identity. Just as he flashes his disgust, the kneeling man roars up his enormous angel wings, which weren't visible moments before, warning the demon to stay away. For a Keanu Reeves film, it's a very powerful image.
Since the bus is such a microcosm of DC’s social underbelly, I often feel that the typically blurred shades of good and evil in the world are instead clear and identifiable on the 54, similar to Constantine. I always hope that I'm moving away from identifying only social vices and instead learning to see the heart of things. The difficulty, however, is that strange bodily ticks really are a good sign of drug addiction and screaming at young children does seem to suggest an unhealthy home… In other parts of the city, and my life for that matter, there's no bodily evidence that my co-worker is greedy and people just think nasty things about one another instead of throwing bricks and shovels at each other (see last entry).
This brings me to a recent ride home: I noticed when I got on that almost everyone, me included, was wearing black, which would have set the scene perfectly if my life were taking place inside a movie like Constantine. A group of us got on, took our seats and just as the bus started to take off again, someone hollered, "HOLD THE BUS……(long pause)…please." The driver stopped and a few more people boarded who had just run up the metro steps to the bus stop. The shout came from an older man in a fake suede coat. After his shout out, I had a hard time keeping my gaze off the man, and only peeled my eyes away out of paranoia that he could see me (at which point I began observing his reflection in the window). He was quite a mystery; first he wasn't wearing black like everyone else and he had a weird hat on. Though he seemed small his gaze was quickly shifting about the bus as if he was keeping watch on things; as if something was about to happen that I was incapable of perceiving. Yet, his appearance hardly suggested he could protect even himself if danger were to unfold.
I’m certain I wouldn’t have viewed him as a protector, if I hadn’t heard him so caringly yell out for the bus to wait for the other passengers. Sorry to say it, but people who look and act like him, aren’t the ones who usually do nice things on the bus.
Eventually he got up and stood by the back door waiting for his stop. Everyone looks funny trying to balance while standing on a moving bus, but he was intentionally bouncing around like a boxer keeping warm before a fight. In fact, his funky hat even fell off while he was jumping about, preparing to face the world outside the 54 – he paid no mind though, just kept warming up until he was ready to reach down and snatch it back. While the hat was off, he took the liberty to fling his head about a few times, stretch the neck, and comb his hair. Then he took a few practice swings, replaced his hat and stepped out the backdoor.
Mocking laughter swooped in after his exit; then left us to sit in our sea of black. It was short-lived and unsubstantial, as most demons are.
That man was preparing for battle and they knew it.
4 comments:
I like it. I'll keep my eye out for demon fighting bus warriors in the future.
I once saw the reincarnation of Ben Franklin on the 87 bus. We were pulling out of the South Laurel Park and Ride Lot when she stood up, raised her cane, and used her mystical powers to stop the bus. She ambled over and began to reprimand the driver for driving past her. All the passengers were amazed, but I think I was the only one to realize that she was the possessor of Ben Franklin’s soul. The bus driver, cowering in fear in the presence of this poorly disguised spiritual being, explained that she was sitting in the bus shelter for the 89M instead of the 87 and had assumed that she was awaiting the arrival of that bus. Upon realizing her mistake, Ben Franklin’s rage turned into bemusement. So intent on carrying out whatever mission he was sent back to earth for that she failed to notice the bus shelter signage caused an unmistakable Ben Franklin chuckle. I thought for sure that this would blow her cover, but the other bus passengers had lost interest and had resumed staring at their shoes. The bus driver was still quivering because Ben Franklin had inferred his failing to pick her up was proof of his demonic nature and she was moments away from defeating her adversary in battle. She saw me staring at her wide-eyed, and gave me a wink to both confirm my postulation as well as to make me a coconspirator in maintaining the secrecy of her true identity.
I told a few people about this incident, but they all thought I was crazy. I thought that maybe I was, but then a few years later I saw the Ben Franklin lady again on the bus. She was much more adept at not attracting attention to herself, but I could still tell who she really was. She gave me a wise smirk and I pretended to stare at my shoes like everybody else.
write a book.
fascinating...
I miss you.
fabulous entry!
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