718 UPTOWN

 

It was only through a set of unfortunate circumstances that for the last week I had to ride the city bus instead of using my car.  My auto mechanic said he’d have it done by next Monday.

On my second day of riding the bus I decided to sit in the back.  I really wasn’t comfortable sitting right next to anyone, and from the back seat I could keep an eye on everything that was going on and still see clearly when my stop was coming up.

The back seat was one long bench seat, and no one was back there, so I walked down the aisle, passing everyone who was already seated, and I took my place in the back.

I sat on the far left, aligned behind the bus driver and I noticed that on the opposite end of this bench seat was a canvas bank bag and it looked like it was stuffed.  I assumed with money.

Certainly no one had just walked off and forgotten it.  I wanted to quickly slide across the seat to check it out, but something wasn’t right.  People don’t just leave bags of money lying around.  Was this some trick?  Was it part of a sting operation?  Was I being filmed?  Were some of these other passengers with the police or the Feds?

I looked up at the rearview mirror to see the bus driver’s eyes.  She wasn’t looking back at me but just paying attention to her driving.  Then I tried to remember the faces of the other riders as I had walked past them.  It was quite an odd assortment, but none seemed to be law enforcement, although I guess one or two could be undercover.  I had no way of telling.

Slowly I started inching my way closer to the bag.  I thought that if I could align myself with the center aisle, it might prevent any new passengers getting on from walking all the way back here, and if someone did head this way, I’d just slide towards the bag, leaving the rest of the seat empty, forcing them to take that side.

Maybe I was just being silly.  I’m only assuming there is money inside.  Maybe it’s just someone’s lunch.  They could use a bank bag to carry their lunch, although that seems a little dangerous here in the city.  It doesn’t look like a peanut-butter and jelly bulge; it looks like a money bulge.

Besides, if it was food I’d smell it, maybe.  Pastrami I’d smell, maybe corned beef and a pickle.  I must be getting hungry.  No, it’s a bank bag, it must be money.  10’s, 20’s, hundreds and a slice of pickle.

 

 I'll let you know what happened
at the next stop.