A Place at the Back

A Place at the Back

The bus screeched to a halt. The pneumatic whoosh of the lowering platform, accompanied by the smell of motor oil, filled the air. I stepped into the open folding doors, threw some of my loose change into the box by the driver, and found a place at the back.

The city in which I lived was a large one. Residential districts were haphazardly scattered about as though a farmer had been feeding a yard of chickens. Commercial skyscrapers filled most of the central area of the city. I was currently on the east end, a sparsely populated industrial zone. Large brick towers spumed smoke into the azure afternoon sky. My bus was a cross-city charter. Restaurant arrangements had already been made on the west end. But considering the time, it would take more than an hour to traverse the twists and turns of the large, albeit badly planned out, city.

There was a squeal as the bus came to a stop. A man appearing to be in his late fifties clambered onto the bus. He was large and round, and as he rocked down the aisle, he seemed slightly asphyxiated. He tipped over beside me. His face was flushed and he was breathing deeply. I thought he might collapse, so I asked him if he was okay.

“I tell you! If I were okay, I wouldn’t be panting like a dog!”

I would beg to differ. He was very round.

“You see my hair?” he pointed to his balding head, “it’s the stress! You see what it is, being a bigshot? I’ve lost the company’s biggest client! They took away the company car, for Chrissakes! Now I have to ride in this rickety bandwagon!

He continued to ramble on for some time until he looked at me and said, “I was once young like you! The higher you go, the harder you fall!”

With that he stood up and waddled out the doors at his stop. He reminded me of my meeting at the restaurant. If it worked out, I would win over a very important client. Then, I thought, if everything goes right, will I become like the round man sitting beside me? I took out my phone and called off the meeting.

2010