Public Transit

I don't remember when this happened, but it's a true story.

I climbed the steps of the bus, performed the necessary rituals to gain access and walked back past the divide in the double wagon bus.  I turned right and sat down, facing the rear of the bus and slid to the window.  I was comfortable and aware of a feeling of security and ease.  The bus stopped every so often to allow others on or let others off, as buses do.  I enjoyed watching people interact and live their lives so close to my own life, but not the same.  This happened years ago and every thing had been going smoothly until recently.

The bus pulled to a stop along the road, I think it was the stop called "Rond Point" just before the tunnels take you down from the "North City" into the downtown.  I thought very little of what was happening because it happened all the time,  and that wasn't my stop; I thought my stop was a long way off.  All of a sudden, a french man wearing a beret and a blue and white striped shirt with a thin black mustache carrying a baguette, a bottle of wine and some cheese sat down next to me, leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Descendez-vous!"  Without understand or hesitating I stood up and relinquished my seat.  I stepped down off the bus and turned and saw him sliding over against the window, pulling off the end of the baguette and looking down his nose at anyone who looked at him.

It happened so quickly I couldn't react.  I stood dumbfounded as the bus pulled away, leaving me alone watching the french man sneer at me as I disappeared from view.

A french man, his name is Jean, has stepped into my brain and taken my own seat.

Je ne sais plus qui je suis.