Posts Tagged ‘Urban’

Inner City Bus Ride

September 14th, 2022

The thick dark plexiglass windows are riddled with scratches. The bus slows. The bus driver pulls a lever. The double doors swing open just as the bus stops.

A young woman near the front of the bus looks out the window, watching passengers board. An older lady with plenty of shopping bags tries to get a seat by the door. A younger man stands, allowing her to sit. A bright smile lights up her face. She thanks him while taking a seat.

The bus driver pulls the lever, closing the doors. The large diesel engine in the rear revs loudly as the bus slowly exits the bus stop, merging into the street.

The bus is packed. A lady standing in the aisle holds the upper railing, hovering over a youngish man who looks as if he’s her same age. She’s in her lower 30’s. Though, could pass for her mid to late 20’s. She probably lives an interesting life. Perhaps she’s on her way to live up the nightlife.

Her scents are soothing. Her style’s appealing. Her t-shirt lifts a couple inches above her lower belly, showing her ever so slightly chubby tummy, tightening over her decent sized, nicely shaped breasts, as she stretches to hold the railing above.

Her arms are soft. Her muscles are soft as well, smallish, elegantly shaped, showing every once in a while when she strengthens her grip as the bus turns.

Her hair is dark, very thick, wavy, almost curly, though, not quite, moist looking, as if she just got out of the shower, flowing a few inches past her shoulders in the back, surrounding her face in the front.

Her face is alluring, cuteish, somewhat pudgy, with a short round chin. Her nose is smallish. Her lips are pouty. Her eyes are a deep hazel, mesmerizing. She’s calm.

Her hip hugger low waist jeans are stylish, sexy, flowing beautifully downward from her waist, over her defined hips and thighs, her smallish, yet shapely calves, to her low top Adidas sneakers.

The man below her tried giving her a warm smile. A smile in return was denied. He probably knew better. He had to try.

The bus driver announces the name of the next stop over the loudspeaker.

The bus slows. The doors swing open. A woman boards the bus, acknowledging the bus driver as she boards, thinking to herself, “Bus drivers are with the people every day, they’re people’s people.” He’s pre occupied, chatting with a lady who’s sitting in the front seat.

A young man in his mid-20’s was next inline. After paying, he quickly scans the seats, thinking, “Maybe, just maybe, I’ll see a decent looking chick my age sitting by herself.”

No luck. Most seats are filled. Disappointed, he maneuvers to the back of the bus where he snags one of the few empty seats.

The bus driver briefly stops his conversation to speak the name of the next stop over the loudspeaker.

At the next stop, a middle aged lady boards. She works her way towards the back exit, using the upper railing to help keep her balance, carefully zigging in and out and around those standing in the aisle.

A few stops later, she reaches over a couple passengers to pull the wire, requesting a stop.

“Ding, ding.”

The bus driver slows the bus, guiding it to the side of the street into the bus stop. The back doors open. The lady exiting turns her head as she exits, looking towards the bus driver, smiling, thanking him for the ride, just before stepping down to the sidewalk.

She was on her way home from work. Her husband finished work a few hours earlier. He was waiting at the bus stop. The two kiss quickly before making their way home.

An older man and woman sit next to each other. The older man starts talking, in a way, talking to the woman next to him, in a way talking to himself, though, mostly just talking.

“I grew very old, very fast. I grew very slow. People shouldn’t disregard the length of life during their younger years. My body and health deteriorated.

The city was different when I was younger. A Baseball stadium use to occupy the land where the condo complex sits on the other side of the street. Locals were proud of the stadium, passionate, loyal fans of their team.

A small Baseball card shop was located a few blocks away. I use to ride my bike to the shop every Saturday when I got my allowance. I had a card for every player on the team. Every time I purchased a card, the owner gave me a bunch of commons for free. I had a shoebox filled with Baseball cards.

I was as proud of the city and stadium as anyone else. Riding my bike through the streets was one of my favorite past times. The streets were much different than, very narrow, traffic moved much slower, riding was much safer, much more enjoyable.

I use to have a lot of energy. I rode over the sidewalk, hopping curbs, cutting through alleys, cruising through parks. I rode everywhere I could possibly ride. I explored and saw as much as I could possible explore and see.

Much like myself, the stadium grew old, wasn’t maintained, deteriorated. Eventually, the stadium was demolished.

The Baseball card shop closed a few months later. Many other new, very large complexes were built. The condos within the complexes were mostly purchased by investors and foreigners.

Many of the investors weren’t local. The money they earned through rent from locals went to other destinations.

Foreigners mostly used their condos as vacation destinations, leaving many empty condos throughout the city during the offseason, only spending money within the city a few months a year while vacationing.

New jobs weren’t created. The poor, got poorer.

Many of the friends I kept weren’t wealthy. Most moved elsewhere. I lost a lot of friends.

I stayed, paying much more for rent, while earning the same wages. The quality of my life digressed.

Most of the complexes were gated, blocking the alleys previously in their place. Streets were widened.

Many of the places I frequented, closed. Many parks shrunk. The city I live in now is very different from the city I grew up in.”

A few minutes later the man stopped talking. The woman next to him smiled and frowned to herself, thinking about the words he spoke.

Soon thereafter, the bus slows. The driver announces the last stop. The doors fling open. The lady standing in the aisle, holding the upper railing, releases her grip from the railing, and from the man sitting below her, thanking the bus driver for the ride as she exits.

The other passengers exit as well, as does the bus driver, shutting down the diesel engine just before exiting, closing the doors behind him until the next route is scheduled.

 
 

Written by George Farina: GeorgeFarina.net

City, Beach Scenery

January 1st, 2022
City, Beach Scenery
 
Late At Night, City Lights, Trains, Buses, People, People Watching, People Socializing, Skateboards, Curb Hopping, Bicycles, Bicycle Paths, Street Performers, Street Art, Street Artists, Music, Musicians, Sidewalks, Fire Hydrants, Telephone Booths, Bus Benches, Pigeons, Train Stations, Storefronts, Entryways, Cafe’s, Bakeries, Pawn Shops, Balconies, Fire Escapes, Bared Doors, Bared Windows, Abandon Buildings, Homeless, Stray Cats, Stray Dogs, Side Streets, Alley’s, Avenues, Boulevards, Stickball, Street Vendors, Arepas, Empanadas, Flea Markets, Fairs, Festivals, Carnivals, Amusement Parks, Beaches, Boardwalks, Frisbee’s, Kites, Soft Sand, Body Boards, Suntan Lotion, Paddle Boards, Waves, Parasailing, Seashells
 
  Written by George Farina, www.GeorgeFarina.net

 

 
Written by George Farina

Thinking About The City

January 1st, 2022
Thinking About The City

Thinking about the city: Kids playing around a fire hydrant. Water rushes out. They’re smiling, laughing and joking. Others play stickball in the street. Fielders towards the bottom of the street chant, “a batta batta, a batta batta, swing batta”. A mother yells from her windowsill, “Time for dinner”. A kid puts down his stickball bat. Time for him to go in.
 
An older lady reels clothes in from a clothesline hung over the back alley of her apartment building. The clothesline runs from the fifth story windowsill of a brick building on the other side of the alley to her windowsill. After unclipping her clothes, she folds them just inside her window, watching kids play outside.
 
A young couple sits on a fire escape overlooking the alley, talking, flirting, being young, enjoying life. Every once in a while he says something intriguing, she lets out a flirtatious giggle, lightly pushing her hands against his thick winter coat.
 
A man is closing his business, locking the inner door, pulling down a steel outer door covered in graffiti. A line of people wait to board a bus. A lady digs for change in her purse, stepping into the bus at the same time. Minutes later the bus takes off. A homeless lady pushes a cart down the sidewalk, wearing a thick yet torn up old coat. Her cart’s filled with bags, some clothes and cans.
 
Street lights and trees planted within the sidewalks are decorated with Christmas lights. Flashing neon signs light up storefronts. Display windows are filled with Christmas decorations. Pigeon’s peck at little bites of food near a diner.
 
A young woman talks on a payphone at the corner. She’s not paying attention to anything around her. She’s enjoying her conversation. She’s laughing. Her arms and hands move as she talks.
 
A cement building on the other side of the street is boarded up. The boards are covered in graffiti. Some boards are loose. A homeless person’s probably inside. The cold harsh realities of life most likely beat he or she down. Old, dust covered, partially rotten wooden planks as flooring. A candle for light. A cold can of beans for dinner. A dirty old blanket to keep warm. Yet, he or she is much happier sleeping in the abandon building than the streets.
 
A man in his late twenties rides his bike through the sidewalk, weaving in and out, and around those walking. He has a small radio. Hip hop plays. The music slowly fades. A lady stops at a hotdog cart on her way home from work. She skipped lunch. She’s starving, paying immediately, taking a bite before she’s given her change. She stands next to the cart, finishing her meal before hurrying home.
 
  Written by George Farina, www.GeorgeFarina.net

 
 
Written by George Farina