It was about 11:45 p.m. My father and I were walking to gate number 419 in the Port Authority bus terminal in New York City. We were both tired from walking around the city all day and were more than ready for bed.
The bus was going to take us back to New Jersey where we would spend the night before heading back to North Carolina.
The station smelled the way bus stations always do, dry and filled with people. The lighting was bad too. Florescent bulbs vibrating light. My eyes never work right in that kind of environment.
Approaching the gate I noticed a woman, probably a few years older than me, clinging tightly to a man who I assumed was her boyfriend. But there was a sadness to them, like this bus was ripping them apart.
I’ve seen people hug this way in bus stations before, but something about this occasion didn’t strike me as right. Usually when people act like this, one of them is going far, far away, but on this occasion, the bus was simply a commuter bus. We were going 10 miles at the most.
The woman’s eyes were laced with tears, her face nestled into his chest, as if this were the last time the two would ever be together. It was the kind of scene you know you shouldn’t be watching, but you can’t pull your eyes away.
My imagination kicked in at this point, trying to figure out why this woman was crying if her boyfriend was merely crossing the Hudson River. Maybe they had just broken up and this was the last time he would ever hold her like this. Or perhaps he was going to Jersey to take care of some “business” that he might not return from. Or what if she was just crazy?
There were countless possibilities for what the situation could have been, but one thing became abundantly clear as I got closer and closer to this couple:
They weren’t a couple at all. In fact, “they” isn’t even the appropriate pronoun to use here. There was no boyfriend, just a young woman holding her coat up in the air. Probably shaking it out, or something.
Her eyes were dry, just like the air in the terminal.
You see, different people see things in different ways. Some people may see the whole world as out to get them, while others see that no one cares about them at all. Some see all of society as a beautiful and wondrous place, but to some, the world is overwhelming and terrifying.
I can see all of these things and more, but with one advantage … I have astigmatism.
I hadn’t brought my glasses with me and my eyebrows were sore from squinting at things all day. Squinting, I guess, bends the light entering my pupils and clears things up a little bit.
Maybe I should have squinted a little more to see this woman a bit more clearly, but then I wouldn’t have had anything to write in this column, would I?