Editor’s note: Starting this week, we have a biweekly column by commuter student Nicholas Murray. He will share curious incidents he witnesses while taking the Palm Tran every day on his way to PBA.
By Nicholas Murray
When most people want to look at a rainbow, they look at online photos of rainbows arching majestically over pristine waterfalls or lush arboreal scapes.
Some people are hands-on and like to recreate the rainbow effect by running some water and then turning their backs to the sun to see the light diffuse across the spray and reveal the visible spectrum.
Some people like to eat fruit salad.
Shoot, I’ve even heard of people dying their Twizzlers and having “rainbow twists” as a snack.
I myself take a different tact. I ride Palm Tran.
Yes, aboard the Palm Tran one experiences so-called “tangible colors”; that is to say, different personalities formed by daily experiences that comprise general life.
This rainbow is sometimes not so pretty to look at. It’s also the only rainbow to my knowledge that I can smell.
I could simply say that it is irrefutably interesting to ride the Palm Tran; I could say that one doesn’t exactly recall images of palm trees, coconuts and sandy beaches when riding the Palm Tran and let your imagination do the work of summoning up images that illustrate just how interesting public transportation is.
I think I’ll just go ahead and describe one of my bus rides instead.
One sunny Florida day, I flagged down the bus, boarded, paid my fare and took a seat. On a normal day, the bus continues along its route, its speed dictated by a number of factors such as who happens to be driving and the number of passengers that need to be picked up, amongst other determinants.
This day of course happened to be the opposite of a normal day.
The bus was full of people including a pair of interesting characters, one who spat a lot when he ranted loudly, inserting a lot of colorful terminologies into his speech, and the other who egged him on.
After addressing a woman on board the bus in a slightly less than kind manner and having the courtesy to let everyone on the bus know what he was talking about and what temperature his spittle was, he turned the nozzle on his throat to jet and lubricated the floor with vomit.
We switched buses after that. My shoes are still relatively clean.
Well there you go everyone. Just one of the many glamorous aspects of riding the bus.
Stay tuned for even more exciting stories coming at you from the Commuter Chapter.