I didn't notice her at first when I looked over, but the second glance was noticeably longer as my eyes fixated on her. There she stood, her hips swaying rhythmically to the motion of her stage. The makeup was thick, as if panted on, so anyone could see it from a distance identifying her profession. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but I am sure she was cute once. I say once because the years in the sun seemed to have produced a body of faded, crackled and peeling skin. As we surged forward she kept pace, her gaze remaining fixed as she undulated to and fro under the green and amber lights of the movement around her.
Then, before I could start to hula on my own, it all suddenly came startling stop with a simple ding. Another passenger wanted to depart the bus. As we pulled over to the side of the road at the next stop, the miniature hula dancer faded into the distance, her legs firmly planted on the dashboard but her body continuing to move to the rhythm of the road. Although the car and it's owner kept on driving, the hula girl moving quickly out of view, a little pre-schooler sitting beside me was still quick enough to wave it goodbye.
Sometimes watching the plastic hula girls on the bus can take one's mind off the stoned - and making that "I think I'm gonna be sick" face and sound - Friday night university crowd heading out during exam time...
Although taking the bus gives me time to watch the world move by, I can't wait until I'm allowed to drive again.