Standing in one of the side by each lines waiting for the train a few days ago, I had nothing better to do than have a lazy look around at my fellow waiters.
In the line next to me but a couple of people ahead stood a woman minding her own business, headphones in, engrossed in her reading. With a bit of minor craning, I could see she was reading some sort of bible study material. For someone who claims to eschew all things religious (except for gospel music which I love), it seems I'm forever rubbing up against it.
I'd have quickly lost interest if a hornet buzzing around the platform (they're everywhere, including my last post) hadn't landed on the top of her hair. It walked around a little and settled at the back of her shoulder length hair as though it was home. She didn't notice and I wondered back to my etiquette classes trying to remember whether it was acceptable to swat the back of a stranger's head or not.
I considered tapping her on the shoulder to tell her about it but imagined her screaming and running away swatting wildly and me being convicted on the testimony of a pack of unreliable witnesses. I decided it was up to Jesus to take care of her considering she had his whole world in her hands.
Two other people also noticed the hornet in her hair and did about as much as I did. We were waiting to see how it all played out. I'm afraid poor Kitty Genovese wouldn't have gotten much help from our unholy trinity.
As the train pulled up and the doors opened, the hornet held his position and boarded with his hostess. As she sat down, her little passenger flew up the stairs to the upper deck of the car.
I cannot provide details on whether panic eventually ensued up there as I promptly drifted off to sleep, my keen disinterest intact. Forgive me Father, for apparently, I do not care.