Hot Seat

The woman on the bus this morning. Despite the usual crowd on the Number 2, when she boarded there was a double seat vacant immediately beside the exit doors. You don't get the jeweled and buffed women on the buses. These are jetting past in cars, or at worst on the MRT. The buses are dowdyville, sleepy workers and service personnel, housewife shoppers and retirees hanging tough. Woman of the usual kind.

         After patting and brushing at the seat a little more than usual, parks her bottom. There. Yeah. She had patted a bit more than ordinary. A smear of some kind only apparent close-up? The denting of the seat showed the springs underneath had collapsed. Hundreds and hundreds of bums all day every day over the years. Not all the Chinese and Malays are snug fits on the seats either; a great number of Buddhas and dervishes gone to seed. Many of the buses are over twenty years old. Not everything in Singapore glitters and shines. Even some of the cars on the street are a bit drab and lack-lustre. You could imagine some of the ladies passing over the older Toyota cabs that ply the trade: boxy non-descript greys with suspension and cushioning shot.

         This woman wasn't a fussy sort. Neat dress. Not a lot of money in the coiffure. Medium sized grannie starting off in the role.

         Not two minutes had she sat there before she was up again. Not two stops. At first it seemed she had remembered she was getting off this morning sooner. She hadn't recalled. Holding onto the rail beside the seat. The seat was a double with no other occupant. There had been no fatty beside her giving squeeze. That can be uncomfortable even for blokes. Litter on the floor there was none. A seat to set off a keen scramble at rush hour, believe-you-me.

         The woman had got on the bus immediately after the previous occupants of the place alighted. Nothing grotesque about the pair. They might not have been a couple, merely sharing the same seat and coincidentally the stop after that. Very unlikely the woman had laid eyes on them. As one must here, she had entered through the front door, while the others exited through the rear. The door there beside their seat: the woman could not have seen them in the interchange.

         Standing perhaps 500 metres beside her seat. A minute and half at the outside. Nothing to indicate anything untoward. Really she ought to be standing at her age. No good getting lazy.

         Another pat and brush at the vinyl, given a little feelingly. Searchingly. Coins that may have slipped? Notes even? But she wasn't digging deep, slipping her fingers between the cushions. Nevertheless here was reassurance; that was all right now. That was better. Right to resume now. Into the saddle she goes.

         ....Taking that kind of heat in the core, someone else's hot-bodied fever, always feels a little uncomfortable, true. Even a pretty honey who has just vacated doesn't leave an altogether pleasant impression. You never can tell with some of the diseases nowadays. In the papers last few days blown-up pics of nasty bed bugs. One can only imagine what the TV has done with exposes. In tidy town critters and grime do not go down well. Poor old dear. More than likely safe. She had only sat a minute.