About ten people are waiting for the bus at the platform. The bus is already at the station, yet still at the parking area where the drivers take their short break between the trips. A few minutes after the scheduled time you see a cigarette butt flying out of the small window next to the driver´s seat of the bus.

When I enter I have that flashback, back to the time when I hadn´t reached the age of ten years yet – family vacation in the mangogreen Mercedes station wagon en route to Korsika or the Bretagne, mother, father, four kids, a dog and luggage for three weeks. When entering the highway the first cigarette would lighten up between my father´s lips. Windows closed, of course. I hadn´t smelled that smell in a motorvehicle for a long time, it comes to my mind that Saturday afternoon.

Seeking a little bit of privacy in the backrow under the noisy airco does not help against the emissions from a royal portion of french fries, the nutritious snack of a passenger sitting half way between me and the driver. I admit, back in the 1980s it was the smell of boiled eggs being peeled by my mother, but still, the odeur of grease was not what I you expected in public transportation.

Before stucking my nose in my book for the 40-minute trip I have to deviate my attention from the conversation between the girl in the row next to me chatting with her boyfriend via Facetime. Not that anybody on the bus asked her to share her intimate exchange and thank God we still have time to think about if a life in The Circle is appealing to us or not (I think not). The fact that the connection was lost did not make her drop her cutie a “see you later” app but to redial repeatedly only to loose connection again after 60 seconds each time.

What came to my mind was what where those people on the bus thinking: the driver, the foodie, the girl – did it come to their mind that their behaviour had an effect on the other passengers´ sense of well-being, that they intruded the other passengers´ private sphere? That they were being impolite? At least towards me? Should I have asked them to respect my private sphere (but what to do about the cigarette smell, leave alone the fresh French fries – throw them out of the window)?

And would they just have replied Why am I doing this? Because I can.

I. I. I. How tiring this interpretation of freedom is.

November 2019