I get on the bus to go to the dentist, and carefully put my new copy of The Onion on the luggage rest at the front, where I snagged a copy of the free Metro paper yesterday. People leave papers on the bus pretty often. 

“White House Evacuated after Trans Alarm Goes Off” says the banner, and another headline is “Congress Plays Keep-Away with Child’s School Lunch.” I hope The Onion makes someone else laugh as much as I laughed when I was reading my copy in the park, before my afternoon nap.

At the next stop, a tall gentleman gets on and puts his cane across my Onion. He looks glorious, all in black except for the plastic flowers in his hat and except for the yellowed plastic slides he is wearing on his feet, along with white socks. His black jacket is covered with black sequins, his black trousers are supple and shiny, and he is wearing many heavy golden chains around his neck, and big seal rings on his hands. 

He folds back one of the senior citizen seats up across the aisle, and stands, leaning against the window, as if he does not deign to sit.

His cane still has the label on it from the drug store where it was sold, though someone put translucent bandage tape on the label to keep it from peeling off.

Another gentleman in dark clothes  gets up. He is wearing headphones, a big loose T shirt, black pants, and worn down black shoes. He says “Thank you. Have a nice day,” to the bus driver and gets off, two plastic bags dangling from his hand, walking slowly as if his feet hurt.

I am wearing all black too, except for my periwinkle quilted flowered tote, but my signet rings and gold chain are more delicate than those of the glorious sequined gentleman. I have the same amount of gray in my hair as the two gentlemen, though. My feet do not hurt. My bursitis is getting better, thank you.

I do not have a hat to put flowers in, and I consider the idea briefly. I have a flower-printed hat at home that makes people smile when I wear it, and I should wear it more often to provide as much entertainment as I receive.