I’m waiting for a computer processes to take place, knowing I’m not going to hit my deadline, and looking for ways to calm the alarms going off in my head…
So I’m cleaning up old emails, puttering about and glancing at the ominously still, black console that hides the churning of activity taking place inside a server somewhere. And taking my lunch break here at the desk as well, waiting for a prompt to pop up so we can continue onwards.
As I look at the screen, I’m reminded of what it’s like to get on a bus on the far eastern end of London on an early Saturday morning… let me take you back there [queue wavy special effect on the screen]
Folks on the East End of town generally take queuing up in a haphazard manner. This goes for anything really – whether it’s waiting for a bus, train, or even walking down the sidewalk. It’s not a thing they take seriously – lines on the sidewalk or in a given waiting area are more hints of suggestions than anything else in that part of the City.
In my mind’s eye, I’m standing in a shifting queue waiting for any given bus (or train) on any given early Saturday afternoon.
As it is here in Houston, a general rush period occurs shortly after the noon hour. The main difference is that in London, the sidewalks and public transport are bursting with activity as well as automobiles on the streets – probably more so.
An interesting thing happens then when the bus (or train) appears in view in this memory of mine in East End London. The almost-neatly-formed queue starts to clot and thicken, as does gravy in a hot pan. Folks begin to close in, anticipating where the door will be, and the occasional foot gets trod upon in the process. I’ve learned how to use my elbows effectively in this type of situation.
As the bus (or train) slows to a halt, the clumps of people congregate into a tight mass. Think of photos of iron fillings on a white piece of paper as they arrange themselves along the lines of flow when a magnetic bar is placed under the paper. A collective shiver of anticipation and hidden sideways glances pass through the crowd of now-nearly-formless groups of people as they plot their move into the vehicle.
And then, as the door opens, a nearly silent mad rush occurs to get into the opening. There’s a definite feeling of suppressed panic that one gets when trying to keep some civil distance away from those in front, as those behind are relentlessly pushing forward. At some point, the pressure wave of flesh, clothing and various amplitudes of scent pops one through the opening, where a similar but less urgent demand for space is taking place.
At this point in my mind, a juxtaposition takes place. This image I just painted is kind of what I’m imagining is happening behind that magic black screen that holds my progress hostage.
At the moment, we’ve a number of dev-types like myself who are also shoving our way into various bits of the system, all at the same time. And like any given Saturday afternoon in any given point of East End London, we’re causing a rush of activity that is no less mad than the scene I’ve taken part of many times on the physical realm.
Ah well, all’s well. We’ll keep churning on then, and will cheer those invisible byte-sized travelers along as they make their way along their journey.
