Today, a man screamed.

It was 23 degrees outside, just barely above freezing. There was a group of us–at least 10–waiting at the bus stop right at the corner of the house. Ten minutes had passed and no bus had arrived. My fingers were feeling numb and cold despite wearing my leather gloves. I made a fist with my fingers, pulling my hands into the sleeves. The little snowman I had made a few days ago was still up, slightly smushed when I had tried to force the snowballs to stay together. I considered playing with the snow again, just to distract myself from the cold. But thoughts of my upcoming presentations distracted me.

And then the man screamed. All of us glanced him, mentally backing away from him not because of fear, but because we all understood we had a crazy one here. The cold was bad, sneaking into our layers of clothes. Soon though soon hopefully, the bus would come.

A bus did come. It was packed with passengers. The driver did not open the door as it pulled to the traffic light. The man started yelling at the bus. \”I need to get to a class!\” he yelled and kicked at the ground.

The bus–filled with possibilties of heat–only pulled away. The man screamed at the air as other people glanced at each other. All of us looked in the distance, the bus stop before ours–looking for hints of the next bus.

Another bus came shortly after, still somewhat full and did not stop. The man screamed again. He was upset. Finally, the next bus barely filled arrived. He was the first one on and he complained loudly, \”Fifteen minutes! Fifteen minutes!!!\”

The bus driver, a young African American with dreadlocks, took no such nonsense and told the man to quiet down. The man apologized without regret and said that he was very upset with the timing of the bus system. The driver again told the man to lower his voice or he would have to get off the bus. The rest of us shuffled into the bus, happy for the warmth. People exchanged murmurs of the man, opinions of how disruptive he was. But in the end, we could understand his frustration–we like everyone else don\’t want to be ignored and most of all, left behind.