I’m waiting in line for the bus across the George Washington Bridge to Fort Lee. There are five, maybe six, people ahead of me, and the line is moving very slowly because each person has to pay the bus driver. Another man gets in line behind me, standing just a bit too close. I can feel his breath on my back. As we stand in the heat and the diesel fumes, he starts muttering, “F*cking animals.” Did I really hear it? But he says it again, “F*cking animals.” I turn and glare at him briefly, and he keeps on muttering, “These people are so stupid, these people and their change. F*cking animals.” As I board the bus, praying I won’t need change, he’s right behind me, shoving his dollar forward as I confirm with the bus driver that I’m on the right bus. I hurry to a seat in the back; he takes a seat close to the front. After we cross the bridge and reach the first stop in New Jersey, he is in front of me to get off the bus. “F*cking asshole,” he says to no one in particular as he walks down the steps of the bus.


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