To My Dearest Roseanne- Chapter 2
The cold January air smacked her in the face for real this time. She forgot to take her winter cap, so the official beret with an eagle in the centre, the emblem of her homeland–the Land of Po, had to suffice. Roseanne left the dilapidated tenement house, which contained her dwelling, and made her way to a bus stop.
The part of town she lived in was a working-class district that would make Raymond Williams tear up with pride. Szwederowo was filled with pre-1939 architecture as well as ugly socialist blocks of flats that were repainted from traditional grey to all shades of horrendous orange, yellow, and green. Such districts were referred to back in the days of Brezhnev and the commie gang as "bedrooms". The more appropriate term to use today would be "commuter town", but Szwederowo was not a suburban area; actually, it was located fairly close to the city centre. Still, it does not change the fact that there weren't any local businesses in the area and its primary function was to shelter adults and children, who needed to get to work or school in different parts of the city. Many colleagues of Roseanne's outwardly hated the Soviet, post-apocalyptic nature of Szwederowo, but she didn't mind it. In truth, the only downside for Roseanne was the constant construction work in the area.
Not long after she reached the bus stop, the transit vehicle arrived with a bright light saying it was line no. 56. Roseanne stepped inside together with dozens of other commuters and luckily took a free seat next to a window. The sound jingle was emitted by the speakers and the bus doors closed. A mechanical, pre-recorded sound of a disinterested woman announced the upcoming stop, and the bus resumed its course.
At times like this, Roseanne liked to listen to some music. In contrast to her fellow peers, she had a peculiar musical taste. Whereas others revelled in Kanye West and Juice WRLD, Roseanne preferred a mixture of 80s Pop. Her wonderful father and his irreplaceable music collection, consisting of good old audio tapes and CDs, introduced her to such heroes as Modern Talking, Pet Shop Boys, Johnny Hates Jazz, Kenny Loggins, and more.
Unfortunately, the loud noise of a local radio blasting through the bus speakers disrupted her listening ritual.
This afternoon, drivers and even passers-by might expect considerable difficulties in the area of Kuyavian–Pomeranian Regional Office. The farmers have announced that they are going to block the city centre with tractors as a form of protest against upcoming EU regulations. It is uncertain if they will allow ambulances, buses, and trams to pass through the blockade. It is best to use alternative routes. From other news, the electrical supply line going from Bydgoszcz to Konin is due to undergo a maintenance check by the Land of Po's Power Grid Co. Ltd. The maintenance check will take place in the village of Mierzwin. Unexpected power outages may arise in the course of this week.
"Dreadful, absolutely dreadful! It's unthinkable in this day and age to sit at home without electricity! It's like the Second World War!" shouted a lady sitting next to Roseanne. The passenger's wrinkled face, snarky attitude, and mohair hat were trademark signs of all the retired citizens of the Land of Po who no longer had real worries, which made them lose reason in the process.
"How am I going to come back home today? Farmers should protest in the capitol. Their action only strikes at honest working people, that's what I say!" Some random man retorted to the lady.
"How dare you! Had it not been for farmers, people would starve! They have the right to protest!"
"Shut up, you old hag!"
"Sieg heil! Sieg heil! Mein Führer!" A drunk hobo suddenly butted into the cascade of contrastive yells and spills of hatred filling the bus.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! Roseanne screamed in her head, but her face remained uninspired in front of the typical social mayhem. She felt like in the belly of the steel beast, the metallic intestines of which were gradually closing in around her, trying to devour her patience and digest her youthful optimism.
Suddenly, just as she felt increasingly approaching hopelessness, the mechanical voice of a disinterred woman announced her stop "Yard Street".
Roseanne stepped off the bus with a sense of enormous relief. She breathed deeply to calm down her nerves.
She really, really hated commuting by bus.
Comments
Post a Comment