Step 1: Open the Window

Today is a monumental day in my Metro riding experience, therefore I feel the need (albeit, def not necessary) to write a quick post to inform you all that opening a window isn’t all that hard. My civic duty if you will.

You see, since beginning my regular bus riding, going on 6 months now, I’ve never had the nerve to open a window. I’ve always wanted to, but for one reason or another I backed down and sat in the stale air of the filling bus. For the most part I just didn’t want to inconvenience the others around me. Perhaps they were quite happy with the windows closed and the petrified air that was coming from the homeless man’s bag of … stuff.

But even if there are no such vagrants on the bus, I still have a need for moving air. Usually one or two windows are opened and I don’t worry about it. In fact one time while walking towards the back of a congested 14 heading east I noticed none of the windows were open. It was terrible, but I wasn’t going to be the one to reach over someone’s head and pop one open. Lucky for me, a large black woman did the bidding for me and let the rushing wind come in. I wanted to give her something, a gift of some sort, but she got off before I could finish constructing a decent origami bus and I was never able to let her know how much of a lifesaver she was.

That was weeks ago and I still had yet to muster the courage to open the window myself. Sitting on the bus, I’d look up at the closed window trying to figure out the system. There are two pieces of metal that seem to cup one another. I assumed one was a locking mechanism and the other was the actual handle, but no matter amount of looking I couldn’t figure it out. My biggest fear outside of others revolting against my fresh air initiative was that I was gonna finally grab the handle, but not be able to open it, therefore look an asshole cuz I can’t figure out the simplest of mechanics. So like one about to jump from a tall diving board I kept counting to three, building myself up to go for it, but like the fat kid that just couldn’t make the leap, I’d cower down the stairs and go back to my seat, away from the fun of any diving and splashing of the 13 foot leap. But today I shed my 11-year-old fat boy skin and made that leap.

I got on the bus, a relatively empty rapid 714 and started towards the back. Two rows of seats were empty and no windows were open. I had chosen my seat, the last row before the open seating area, which was also empty. This was it. I counted as I walked and turned quickly to see how close the next person was. PERFECT, I jumped inside, one teenage kid was holding up the line with his rolled up dollar bills. But people were scooching past, so I had to act quickly, for if I was to fail, at least I had a window of time where no one would see. So quoting Makuly Kulkin in Home Alone I set my course, “this is it, don’t get scared now”.

One. I walk up the first step.

Two. I reach to the window handle over the second to last row, the wind would therefore go straight to me sitting in the last row.

Three. I pull on the medal handle as I continue to move, expecting a fluid transition to my seat, but the window doesn’t budge.

OH NO. It happened. Somehow it happened, I tried and as I expected, I failed. But in that fit of panic I immediately went for the window above the seat I was about to sit in and in mid sit down movement my hand accidentally, but correctly, clasped the metal locking mechanism. So while I completed my sit down motion, planting my ass on the yellow-tagged metal fabric of the seats, the window continued with me and BOOM… the window was opened.

I did it. I actually did it. The people continued on past the teenager blocking the entrance and found their seats. No one noticed the mishap and I watched them with the thrill of victory all over my face. I puffed my chest and breathed in the air that was filling the bus. People found their seats and the doors closed just as the teenager inserted his final wrinkled bill. The bus drove off and the wind instantly washed over me. As we moved I could see a couple eyes close, taking in that toxic LA air like it was a field Montana; knowing anything is better than that bums bag of smelling mystery.

And to that woman who opened the window so long ago… this post is for you. Thanks and keep inspiring the overly cautious and neurotic the world over.