Flaites on buses (sólo una pequeña e insignifcante anecdota)

Lunchtime busfaring has never meant anything but business as usual for our anonymous heroe. Just the heat and the people, scarcer than usual as it is february and the city has emptied out the crowds that now fill  beaches, mountains and deserts in Chile. He is standing near the door when a passenger leaves and a seat is there for the taking. Nobody makes the move, so he sits down after waiting a few seconds, receives a call on the cell and then opens the book. A face looks at him from the other side of the isle. It is nervous and inquisitive and leans over to check out the colors on the pages.

- ¿Qué onda el libro? Sta 'onito...
- Nada. Es pa una clase.
- a'er...

A young  tanned guy, skinny and slender by the works  of poverty like his clothes and skin, moves swiftly from the other side of the isle and deposits himself with his empty orange backsack on the seat next to our heroe, and stretches out his hand for a handshake, which is reciprocated. Our heroe had already glimpsed at him, for his backsack was empty and schoollike, wierd on such an individual. He is nervous but conceals it with a cold stare and gets back to his reading. The other one goes on:

- ¿Y pa qué es?
- Pa una clase de inglés.
- Sai. Vengo saliendo 'e la cana...pero no te preocupi que no te oy a colgarte na'a...Tranqui socio

A smile of reassurance comes out and then

- ando arrancando de uno' rati. Mira.

He pulls down the zipper of his washed off red sweat suit. There is no t-shirt under it, just a bony chest...and a scar that a finger with its black hallow nail is pointing at while the other hand is clentching on to the backsack firm like stone.

- Esta huea e' un tunazo... ¿Dame plata socio?
- No tengo. Ando con lo justo pa la micro.
- ¡Ya poh loco! ¡Dame plata poh loco!
- Si no tengo.
- Dame tu celular entonce' poh, wena onda asi. ¡ya poh!.
- No puedo.

Now the heroe is scared shitless. Once again a flaite has broken into his serene routine, but somehow he manages to keep his cool, look at his book and sound relaxed. The conversation is clearly shifting direction and the tone of voice this flaite uses is changing to an aggresive restlessness of arms and legs moving in the seat. Despite all this, one hand is still firmly holding the backsack against the lap. The hand is then pulled into the backsack, while the other arm is bent over the it.

-¿ si te digo que ahora yo ando con una tuna aca, ah?. Y cachai que igual no toi ni ahi con todo' esto' hueones' poh. Podria sacar la tuna y pitearme a todo esto' hueones asi y no toy ni ahi con ellos. ¿Y que hariai si saco la tuna ahora y te digo que me pasi tu celular, ah? Si poh loco, ¡si no toi ni ahi con vos poh!.

- Igual te meteriai en problemas...

His voice comes out, but  low

- ¿ahh? ¿Qué wa?
- Que te meteriai en problemas, porque toda esta gente te vería y igual al final los pacos te agarrarían y lo pasariai mal. Asi que tranquilo socio...

The flaite is staring straight at him, his body leaning forward with his eyes. Our heroe looks back at his book (doesn't know how and why he got into the idea of not yielding anything at the risk of being stabbed or maybe even -everything is possible, needlessly shot. Yet the whole situation, the context and surroundings, the summer sun... it all seems too alien to really think he runs the risk of getting a bullethole blown into him)...And then the flaite deflates like a balloon, body retreats and shrinks unperceptibly against the window uttering unintelligible sounds...

- Ya socio, vale.

And somehow, he turns around and starts looking through the window.

The rest is just our heroe getting up and standing between 3 more people, the flaite getting up, standing next to him, mumbling stuff inaudible and looking at him and at the rest of the passengers around... Finally the flaite gets off the bus...

-¡agradece que ando solo shushe tu mare!

Our heroe feels that he has dispelled one fear, and opened another window into himself like discovering a trapdoor in your house that opens to a room you didn't know was there. Pride ecos in his shaky hands and dashing thoughts. Fear recedes slowly as he realizes he has come out victorious of this one-on-one. He can now go to work in peace, get off the bus and walk the streets, just as usual, as always...