An Ordinary Bus Ride: Page 2
Thinking about old TV shows almost made me walk into a parking meter from not watching where I or my subject was going. The box creature walked about a block in the direction the bus was going, then rounded a corner. I ran to avoid losing it, but didn't want to be too obvious about following. But when I rounded the corner, it was just standing there, as if it were waiting for me to catch up. For half a second I thought about the possibility that this was a setup, that I was walking into a trap, but I ignored that and continued following the box, which had stopped in front of a clothing store. As it stopped and its legs turned direction slightly, the door swung open but slowly, as if being pushed rather than opening automatically.
I followed, not noticing until after I was inside that it was a women's clothing store. But I was determined to find out what was what regarding this box creature, so I stayed and watched as it began its version of shopping. It would stop by a rack, where a hanger holding an outfit would float off the rack and hang there in space between the rack and the box creature, sometimes appearing to be manipulated by unseen hands. After a few moments the floating hanger would be lowered onto the top (bottom?) of the box in such a way that the clothing it held would be loosely folded atop the box rather than piled up. Once a few items were stacked way, the box made its way towards the dressing rooms.
I wondered silently why it was bothering with a dressing room, since whatever entity was behind all this movement was invisible anyway. Apparently that thought did not occur only to me, because the box stopped right outside the dressing rooms, did a quick about face, then turned and walked back towards me, stopping a little more than arms-length away.
The outfit's shoes unstrapped themselves from the hosed-but-transparent ankles, after which the hosed legs stepped out of them. The pantyhose then made slight movements as if unseen hands were adjusting them a bit, smoothing out here and tugging there, after which went to put on a pair of jeans. The hanger holding the jeans floated up off the box as the jeans unclipped themselves from the hanger, which was tossed aside as the jeans positioned themselves to be stepped into. There was nothing visible lowering the jeans to where the hosed legs could step into them, but they hung there just the same as if unseen hands were holding them as the legs stepped into them. Then they pulled themselves up the pantyhosed legs, zipped themselves up, and fastened the crotch button. I hadn't realized it at the moment, but apparently when the jeans floated off the box to be "put on," the box itself rose a bit into the air, because once the jeans were fastened onto the unseen and intangible figure underneath, it floated at least a foot above the waistband of the jeans.
With the same reckless boldness that had earlier led me to stroke the legs on the bus after another rider had apparently been slashed for the same thing, I reached out for what I was sure was an unseen midriff between the jeans' waistband and the box. But my hand made contact with nothing but air; it was just like it looked, jeans and pantyhose that held their shape but without something solid inside to give them that shape.
"I hope you don't mind," I said, just before I reached down just a bit to rub the inside of the waistband. There was no apparent response to my spontaneous action, not that I had expected any, or had any idea what to expect.
Another idea, just as silly, popped into my head. The situation I was finding myself in had removed whatever filter would normally have stopped me from acting on just such a silly impulse -- I propped my elbows on the still-floating box and leaned on it with almost all my weight. There was absolutely no give, though I had just felt that there was nothing solid holding it in place.
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