There are some people who will be late to their own funerals. If that's true, Colombia as a nation is going to show up late to the Day of Judgement. The Lord of All Creation will be sitting there on His throne, taping his foot, his (literally) saintly patience wearing then, and the archangels will be blowing their horns with the strident, "Are you kidding me?" tones of an alarm clock that's been set to snooze for the 17th time.
Colombia, not understanding what the big deal is, will answer with an exasperated, "Ya voy! Ya voy!"
I am thus baffled as to how an entire city of 8 million people can be late with a consistency that borders on the pathological, yet conduct themselves with the single-minded fixation on their own affairs usually reserved for insects. (All of the disregard for others, none of the efficiency.)
At times I think the Transmilenio, Bogotá's mass transit system, is a metaphor for my beefs with the city. I love the system; it's efficient, accessible, safe, convenient. My problem is the other god damned people.
You will never have to waite more than 10 minutes for your bus to swing by (usually not even that long) and another will be along shortly. And yet as soon as those doors open, would-be passengers start forcing their way onto the bus like it's the last chopper out of Saigon. Meanwhile, those who want to get off to avoid being trapped forever in public transit perdition, straight out of Stephen King's wet dreams--a chain of endless stops and starts, forever moving yet never going anywhere--have to throw themselves at the crush of humanity like they're storming Omaha Beach.
Never mind that it's quicker to let others disembark first... and you run less risk of sustaining a concussion due to gladiatorial shoving matches. Never mind that the bus is not going to leave without you.
"Marines, we are LEAVING!"
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