They Could Be Kings

There was a guy sitting right there on the bus, dressed in business-gone-casual. That means that it began as business and became casual as he rolled up his sleeves and adjusted his collar. He looked tired, and he sat like he was unemployed. Actually, he was holding an unemployment guide, and he had a hole in the bottom of his shoe, I noticed.

He probably had a rather decent job until recently, I gathered as I watched him. He reminded me of George.

George is tall and loud. He sleeps when he wants, and pokes and prods for fun. One of those people who naturally could put someone on edge by an unexpected glance. George isn't happy. When he sits and watches you, he is like the man on the bus--contemplative. Measuring.

People always say that eye contact is so important to communication, yet there is more to that. Eye contact is communication, from one soul to another. I've seen most people flush; embarrassed at what other people will see. There are a few who don't though, who gaze back steadily, opening themselves to you to gaze upon, hiding nothing. George did that today--as he does often to make people squirm.

I watched his eyes move behind his sunglasses. Lloyd and SB watched, waiting for me, the rookie, to bow to George's will as everyone else had; but I did not. Rookie, yes, but nothing less than George--what did I have to bow to?

George, I thought as I came to my conclusion, George in another life could be a king. He isn't--king of the rampers maybe. And the man on the bus--who knows what kind of life he has been dealt? What kind of situation put him on a bus with holes in the soles of his shoes, when he could be a king?

"George may pick on you, but in his heart, he's really got your back; if there is anyone who will look out for you--you especially--no matter what kind of trouble you've managed to get yourself into, George will take care of you" Kevin explained, as if I was afraid of George.

"I know that" I answered.