Summer in the City

I spend almost four hours every day in transit to and from the center of the city for my classes. However, it´s so easy to turn this lemon into lemonade- one of my favorite past times is people watching. (Which is indeed one of the greatest perks about living in the city)
In all big cities including Sevilla, inevitably you are going to run into strange people, see strange things, and always, ALWAYS have something to laugh about. Which is exactly what I had to do when I gave an account to Meara of all of the characters I had encountered. Here are just a few-

1. Mr. Sweats
Mr. Sweats was an older man with disheveled and sweaty dark grey hair and he carried a pretty large gut. If I have ever seen anyone take an outfit seriously, this guy did. We were on the bus riding into the city, and I noticed him when we came to the last stop and got out. He was ahead of me at the cross walk, sprinting across all 8 lanes of traffic while there was still pleanty of time. But he´s no middle distancer, and he slowed directly after the cross walk. I rounded the corner and passed him on my way to the tranvía. Then, when the tranvía was at the last stop, Mr. Sweats got up and jumped to the door, reaching around the lady in line to push the button for the door to open, when I noticed he not only had on some serious sweats, but also new sqeaky shoes, of which he immediatly put into good use sprinting to who knows where.

2. Mr. Body Odor
One incredibly early morning I was taking bus 5 into the center of town and ended up downwind of this big bear of a man who had apparently just gotten off a hard day at work and was drenched in sweat. (He smelled pretty ripe and I had no way of escaping the smell in stuffy slow bus number). So of course when he got off at his stop, I was able to breathe easy for the first time in at least 2 miles. Whew!

Well, weeks later, which was yesterday, I ended up on the bus for my afternoon commute to class and ended up holding the handle bar right next to the same man (this time he smelled much better). He read the paper for awhile, holding it just inches from his big coke bottle glasses, and then began to doze. His balding head with a lovely ring of cotton ball hair dropped and jerked as he slept, and we were approaching his stop. Oh my goodness, I though. What if we pass his stop, and he sleeps through it? He would probably be disappointed to sit on the crowded bus while it drove in circles. Perhaps I should tap him on the shoulder and let him know his stop is coming up.

But wait... think about it Chelsea... What if I woke him and told his stop was coming up? That might be wierd. What are the odds that a complete stranger knows which bus stop is YOURS? Would that wierd you out in the slightest? It would wierd me out.
Right about that time the bust abruptly halted in traffic, waking him, and the dillema was solved. So this bear of a man sleepily gets up and smiles apologetically at some lady whom he bumps into, and then as he passes me he accidentaly whops me on the head because he´s so big and the bus is so crowded. ¨Esta bien¨I say, as Mr. Sleepy Head (formally Mr. Body Odor) exits the bus.

3. I heard a rooster on the way to the bus stop.
I kid you not. I live in the 4th largest city in Spain, and in my neighborhood on the way to the bus stop, I heard a rooster crow. The nearest blad of grass is at least a half a mile from my house, and yet, there it was, 315 in the afternoon, rooster crowing steadily from who knows where (was he hanging out on someone´s roof?) My suspicions that it was some Spanish man giving me a hard time was eliminated because it is not humanly possible to make a noise this loud and steady repeately without faltering just a little. Perhaps he was hanging out, waiting to be somenoe´s dinner, but who knows. I´m sure he knows just as well as I do why he is a rooster living in the city.