i was waiting for a bus and then i caught a bus

I sort of owe you a critical analysis of a bunch of cultural artifacts I’ve consumed since the last time I alerted you, but instead I’m going to tell you about this morning. On Monday mornings, I have a game wherein I take out the Monday NYT crossword as soon as I get on the bus, and try to finish it before I get off (’round about 10 minutes later). Today I waited and waited and waited for the bus, and when it finally arrived, the driver was on  a tear, attempting to make up for lost time. He barely stopped to let me on, and once I got myself situated, the distraction of hurtling down Liberty Ave., hoping not to be thrown from my seat due to a sudden stop, diverted my concentration. The trip took a lot less time than usual (I was sure this would be the case as soon as I got on, and it upped the pressure), and I only got about half done. I felt defeated, like in this “against the clock” competition, the clock cheated.

Then I went to Bruegger’s and everything was better. It was there that I formulated my new theory, which is that life would be non-stop wonderful if all the world was a Bruegger’s, and warm cranberry-orange bagels, and rosemary-olive oil bagels, and sesame seed bagels grew on trees, and lakes and ponds were filled with cream cheese, and rivers flowed with hazelnut cream coffee. And loudspeakers everywhere would spout Paul McCartney, and the Bee Gees, and Tom Petty. That would be nice. It sure would.