Tonight I was grateful to find a free seat on the bus stop bench; I collapsed into it, world-weary from a day of working holiday season retail. As a decidedly Grinch-y rain drizzled all around, I wolfed down a Walgreen’s hummus snack pack. From across the intersection, a woman berated her companion for guiding her by the arm into oncoming traffic, in a crosswalk. She wondered whether he was born “with dicks for brains.” The children next to me in cartoon character-branded parkas squabbled over who was “being the bigger bitch” (it may have been a draw). To my immediate left, a man drew his lady close, embracing her from behind, as he wondered aloud to the heavens, “Is this bus ever coming? It needs to get here quick, I’m tryin’ to FUCK!”
His lady giggled. Charmed, I’m sure.
It was in that sublime, shining moment that I too understood the magic of Christmas in the city.