To Ride or Not to Ride

“Taxi to Zelenadolsk. We can fit one more person,” a voice behind me shouted.

I hesitated before the gaping door of the large battered bus idling near the central market. Should I? Riding the lumbering buses was usually a miserable experience and the taxi would get me there quite a bit faster.

Yes, but I’m really not in a hurry and they always cram five people into those matchbox cars. Plus the bus isn’t even full. I can see several empty seats. Window seats, too. I’ve never seen the bus this empty.

There I was, standing before a glowing vista of empty seats and no one was elbowing me in the stomach. Usually the minute the bus rolled to a stop a swarm of half crazed people began fighting and clawing through to grab a seat. Those unlucky enough to get stuck at the back of the crowd had to stand for the hour long journey over bumpy icy roads. Not being much of a fighter I usually ended up with the standees.

And there’s a touch of spring in the air today. The sun is shining, it’s thirty degrees. I think I’m even looking forward to the ride.

You know you practically froze to death on the bus during that frigid spell and then last time almost burnt to a crisp because it had warmed up a little. A small voice inside my head argued with me.

I know, but that’s because I was still wearing my massive winter coat and hat and gloves and scarf and all that necessary paraphernalia for a Russian winter. Now I’ve switched to my light winter coat and if I sit by the window it will be cooler anyway.

Ah, but you’re always wanting to take a taxi and there’s never one here. You should take this one just because it’s available. You know you should.

But why? What’s the point when I’m actually in the mood to ride the bus today. I should just take the bus, right? Right.

My decision made I resolutely climbed up the three steps into the bus. At my first step into the aisle my feet promptly flew out in three different directions and I only saved myself from crashing to the muddy floor by grabbing the back of a seat and a nearby hand rail. At least ten pairs of eyes swerved in my direction and stared at me as though scrutinizing a specimen under a microscope.

Look at her. She can’t even stand up straight when the bus isn’t moving. I don’t think she even looks Russian. I bet she’s some weird foreigner. I could feel their minds whirring as I sauntered up the aisle.

You know you’re gonna regret this. The voice of reason inside my head gave me a last parting shot. You always do. Every time you feel a nudge to take some opportunity and reason it away you regret it. It’s inevitable.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. What reason could I possibly have for regretting this. Maybe if I get a really bad seat partner, but what are the chances of that. I settled myself into my carefully selected window seat, determined to enjoy my leisurely trip.

“Is this seat free?”

Nodding yes, I turned toward the voice that had just addressed me. Hardly a chance, huh? I knew I should have taken that taxi. I instinctively scooted toward the window as a grizzly bear sized man wedged himself into the seat beside me. Obviously these two seats were not made with the two of us in mind.

Ok, be nice. Just because someone is rather… large, doesn’t I should be upset because he sat by me. Have a little compassion. This has got to be uncomfortable for the poor man. His legs don’t even fit between the seats. Otherwise his leg wouldn’t be taking up half of my leg room. And I can sit with my legs pressed against the side of the bus.

With a jerk and a shudder the now full bus rumbled out of the parking lot and careened into the first of many potholes to follow. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a head nod and snap up, nod and snap up and finally fall completely forward. Rather like a candle softening in extreme heat, my neighbor’s body gradually relaxed and leaned until the weight of his immense bulk rested on my shoulder.

The inevitable. Not only am I being slightly squished, I am being completely squashed. I guess I should be thankful his shoulders are too obese for his head to fall on me. I glanced to the right as a series of snorts and stifled snores erupted and leaned my head closer to the window. Granted his head is definitely too close for comfort, but I’m being thankful. This ride has got to be over sometime.

I heaved a sigh of resignation as several young ladies standing in the aisle snickered over my predicament. The young couple seated in front of us was to busy sucking each other’s faces to notice much of anything else. A guy near us began to flirt with one of the girls and every time the conductress squeezed around them to collect money from new additions to the standing room only crowd, she shoved my seating companion further into my lap. Just another wonderful bus ride in Russia.

An hour later I stumbled off the bus at my deserted stop, one arm frozen from being plastered against the window and the other numb from so much pressure.

Told you so, came a sing song voice in my head.

Why didn’t I listen. I know when I pass up a sudden opportunity I’ll regret it. I always do. I know this, I know it, I know it. Next time I’m going to listen.

I wrapped my shivering arms around myself and clumped off through the snow banks, deep down realizing that next time, well, I would probably do the same thing. After all, the reason I’ve learned this lesson so well is because I’ve lived through it so many times.