(Mori)Bus Philosophorum: The Urban Adventurer

The bus forces you to travel like a New Yorker, not leaving the house without a book and an umbrella. This is reasonable of course but there’s another kind of commuter out there that takes being prepared to an extreme: the Urban Adventurer.  Bogged down with enough North Face equipment to scale Mt. Marcy, the Urban Adventurer fancies himself an outdoorsman capable of surviving in the frigid wilderness for weeks at a time. While I’m not much of a hiker I have worshipped at the Churches of Pirsig and Bryson enough to understand the importance of striking a balance between necessity and excess when packing for an expedition. The UA, not being compelled to march for seven hours with forty pounds on his back, opts to carry everything he thinks he may need at any given time (like a tent, which I swear to god I’ve seen.)  I imagine he is taking the bus to his job at an environmental non-profit or to meet a friend for a pleasant night-kayak up a vertical rock face.  A UA plopped down next to me this morning with an official-looking backpack covered in zippers, bungees and carabiners. He shed two shell-thin layers of fleece which he folded neatly and shoved into his bag.  Then the fortifications came out: a granola bar, a small bag with an assortment of vitamins and a Nalgene.  He ate his snack and pills and sipped some water, then unclipped a cell phone from his utility belt and had a hushed conversation with someone about sunglasses.  ‘This guy is serious,’ I thought to myself, making a mental note to avoid eye contact unless I wanted to get drawn in to a conversation about this season’s exciting new glare-reducing lens treatments.  When we disembarked at Crossgates he made a beeline for Dick’s intending, I assume, to purchase a new compass for more effective orienteering between bus stops.   God speed, you intrepid Urban Adventurer.