I am apparently taking the Party Bus to work. When it arrives after an unusually long time, I can hear the bustling vallenato sound from far away. As I get on and try to get to one of the free seats in the back, I have to get past the singer, who’s also playing the accordeon in the middle of the car. The bus is on fire! At first, I am bugged by all the noise, and try to hide in my chair in the back. But a few seconds later, I start to like what I hear and my feet start tapping. I fumble for coins and pass them to the singer when he comes around to collect. He looks at me curious and says: “I didn’t think you would give us anything.” Perplexed, I ask him, why not. He responds with a gesture, signaling my face, and I am not sure whether he is aiming at my skin colour, or whether he is trying to tell me I look so serious. Then he starts to sing “Bella flor del campo”, smiling at me as I turn red. At that moment, the bus arrives at the next stop, we fist bump and say goodbye, and he and his two companions get off the bus.
Gotta love public transport! Every now and then when Genderella embarks on her commutes to and from the corridors of knowledge, she encounters new and exciting adventures.
Once upon a time on public transport, Genderella was happy to finally get on a bus after waiting for half an hour for one to pass with at least minimal possibilities to stand on her own two feet only. She managed, and thanks to her being slightly taller than the average bus taker at that location, she was almost comfortable holding on to the handhold at the roof of the bus. With parts of human bodies everywhere around her, she didn’t immediately notice the hand on her ass, but only when it finally left.
On a different occasion, Genderella stood next to the handhold at one of the bus doors, when a man “accidentally” touched her breast instead of the handhold. Another time, a man used her tigh as hand rail while trying to stand up from the floor, where he’s been sitting. Genderella never wondered about these incidences, because from what she heard from her peers, that was just the way things went.
Only that one time, when Genderella traveled home from a concert alone on an almost empty train, things where different. That one time, a man stood across from her, watching. Genderella didn’t like his look, but didn’t think about it too much, until she realized the man was moving his hand very strangely inside the pocket of his pants while continuing to watch her. Genderella felt very uncomfortable, she noticed her head getting red and felt ashamed. But since there was no-one else in sight, she decided to act. When she got up at the next stop to change lines, she looked the man straight in the eye and told him he was disgusting. He blushed, but didn’t come after her, fortunately.
After that, Genderella didn’t feel great. She felt that, although she had conquered a little space for herself and fought of some evil dragons, she really only won a battle, not the war.
Check out Genderella’s other stories here.