Bus rage

25 Sep

I screamed at a bus this morning.

I didn’t say anything: no cussing, or even a “Hey!” It was more of a roar of inarticulate fury as I watched the bus roll away after the driver had shut the door in my face while I tried to board. I stared at it in astonishment, then yelled, “AAAAUGH!”

It sounded a little like John Cho in that scene in Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle when Neil Patrick Harris steals Harold’s car. You know.

A felllow commuter at the transit center tugged my sleeve and pointed out that the bus was coming to a stop and opening its doors again about fifteen feet down. I thanked him and got on.

It’s not the stress from work that’s getting to me. It’s all of the other stuff on top of the stress from work that’s turned me into a ball of barely suppressed rage this morning.

On Saturday night we attended the Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament at Redeemer, one of the very Catholic things we do at that Episcopal parish. Father John places a blessed Communion wafer in a gleaming gold cruciform holder called a monstrance on the altar. Incense smolders and fills the front of the church with fragrant smoke as we sit and silently meditate, for ten to twenty minutes, on the Body of Christ.


It was a good thing to do. The week was, well, the week; and Saturday morning and afternoon were filled with errands and chores. This service is the first opportunity in the weekend to experience real quiet. I think we might start going more often – the church does this every Saturday evening.

I have a feeling that this is the only blog post – maybe the only piece of writing anywhere – that refers to both the Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament and Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle.

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