Over There

“Should I wait for the bus over there?” Silence. No response from the operator. Can he or she see where you’re talking about? Does the operator see your finger and guess which corner or direction you are pointing toward? This question usually is not answered. If I am in the middle of something like the crosswalk, the turning car, the waiting truck, the cyclist approaching, I don’t have a second set of eyes to find the direction or spot you are pointing to.

As soon as I can qualify and describe a landmark in the big view in front of the bus, things become clearer. If inside the coach, I must come to rest before I can safely give you the answer you need. I have to look at this from a point of view other than my own. I can stop and open the door where you are standing in the aisle behind me, offer a suggestion based on the scene in front, and wait for you to decide what to do. I need the space to stop, look, and listen.

I have tried to simplify this by saying, “Yes.” But nine out of ten times, the question is repeated again. “You mean over there?” “Yes.” “Going that way?” “Yes.” “Or is it that way?” “No.”

Third time is not a charm. The answer is yes and the case is closed. And so is the door. “Hold on, we’re rolling!” I may not have eyes in the back of my head if my interior rear view mirror is above or below where your finger is pointing; and even then, just what part of the finger am I supposed to look at? The one finger that always leaves no doubt—the middle finger sticking straight up in the air!