I’ve been on crowded flights. I’ve survived crowded bus rides in stifling heat. I’ve experienced traffic that oozed like molasses. And in each scenario, time crept slowly as if I was trapped in some torture chamber. My mood was ruined. I cursed that crowded place. I couldn’t wait to be free from it.
I’ve been to Freaknik. While there, I was in traffic so thick, so viscous that we moved a mile in two hours. I’ve been to concerts and clubs that were packed with people and dank with the aroma of ganja, alcohol and under arm funk, cleverly hid under flowery perfume and musky cologne. Yet I had fun being stuck in that traffic, being stuffed inside that club with its capacity crowd. I actually wanted to be there.
I realize now, as I sit on a hot bus that is packed to capacity, a bus I cannot wait to exit, that it is and was my perspective that made me enjoy the madness of Freaknik traffic and dislike with a passion slow molasses-like traffic and a bus packed with human sardines. I was doing something productive in the club. It might not have been wholesome, but I was having fun.
So while I travelled this afternoon, on a packed shuttle, in slow traffic, I adjusted my perspective. Instead of complaining about the crowd, I decided to write this post. And wouldn’t you know it…I’m at my car now. That was fast.