On the long-distance going west bus and it's late at night. The young guy with the ugly beard sitting next to me is listening to headphones. It's an album I used to listen to a lot years ago and I know all the songs even though I can only hear a little bit of it.
I start tapping along on my knees.
The lights of small towns spin past the window as we slowly churn our way through the darkness. I keep drumming, really getting into it. There's not much else to do. I didn't bring a book or anything.
Halfway through the album and the guy listening is asleep, but I'm rocking it hard. I'm slapping my knees and tapping my feet and really feeling it when I look up and notice three women, maybe in their late thirties, pointing and laughing at me. I sit up straight and pretend I wasn't doing anything.
I wish I could be the sort of guy to smile and point back while still playing drums on my knees like I want to be doing. I don't know why I care that they're laughing, but I do. I try not to look in their direction anymore, but it's hard since they keep looking over at me and smiling all funny.
Only lots and lots of hours more to go.