The Day He Went By the Wayside

I knew a man who had an addiction, who always sought the time.1

He'd ask me what time it was, turn to his watch and nervously smile back, "Oh everything is going to be just fine.  The bus comes at eight forty-one I'll be at work by nine.  I can't be late.  I'm never late, and the bus is always on time."2

I'd just smile back at him, "I'm sure you're right.  You're always right sir, and the bus is usually on time."  I did not catch the name of this frantic fellow who came each day.  Stopping by at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to come our way.  Finally one day, with the bus overdue for several minutes, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and started puffing one and then two.  He started puffing a third and began to pace like a frantic nut out of his cage.  He got all edgy and flustered and nervous and scared.  He stared at his watch again and again and finally screamed aloud, "Where is it?  Where is it?  How can the bus be late?  This can't be allowed!  I can't believe this outrage.  I'll be fired for sure, for sure!  How can the bus deter?  It's always here, it's always here by eight forty-one.  Now it's eight fifty-two, fifty-two, and what can I do?  I'll be late.  I can't be late, in sobbing tears he wailed, you don't understand I need this job, I really do!3

Then came the bus around the corner as if hearing his plea, but it did not stop at the stop for him and me.  No, as it came closer where its destination was supposed to say 2C cross town, there read no service today.  That man whose best friend was time had no friend in time that day.  He raced like a wild hyena at an elephant leaving the sidewalk for the road.  He truly was insane those waiting for the bus suggested, leaving his mind for his feet in the wet and cold.  I'd like to think there was more to him than that, since in such a crowded morning bus he always made sure that I had a seat.  And though we never got past how are you or what do you do? We always made a point of saying hullo.4

I listened to the local radio late the same wet April night.  There was not much light, and all day starting from a little after eight-thirty in the morning it rained.  They mentioned a wild man, and father of five, had lost his life in a crazy attempt to chase down a bus.  I shook my head and thought of him.  The one who gave up his seat.  I realized he was my greatest friend.  All this time, the man that I did not know.  The kindest man I had seen of my day, I had watched him stare at his watch and was always too shy to know.5