This Line

I approach this daunting fx queue for the last time. This line that becomes scarier by the minute after 5:30. 

It is waiting in line that makes the commute home take twice as long. To deal with heavy traffic while already boarded, squeezed between arms and legs of strangers, or more conveniently between the fx door and a stranger, or between the driver and a stranger, is more bearable than to stand cringing my neck to look out for the next fx, which is not still my ride, but which can cut the line by 10.

I realize I still have my ID on. I place it in an eco bag containing the last batch of stuff from my workstation. I smile. It was my last day at work, for the next year at least. I pause writing this, look around me, at people slumped on the edge of the sidewalk, tired from a week's work. An fx arrives, and the line moves, and these weary people jump up to walk a few steps nearer to their ride home...

Alas, I'm now in the next batch of 10 passengers. I am inclined to pay for 2 seats as I'm toting a bulging eco bag. But I decide against it as it would deprive another passenger an immediate ride. The line is now longer than when I joined it. It's now a quarter to 10pm. Children of mommies on this line are likely now in bed... 

I am thankful, privileged to take a break from this routine.