The morning was warm and muggy, uncomfortably so and as I stood at the bus stop I could feel my shirt beginning to stick to my skin. Hoping to pick up a breeze I stepped away from the glass and steel bus stop shelter and moved into the shade of a tree. Seeing the tender, light green foliage rustle a bit I then felt a slight cooling sensation pass over me like a faint wave. Once the air slipped past the leaves stilled and I felt the warmth cover me again. Fortunately I could see my bus approaching from down the block and I moved into the line behind two others waiting ahead of me.
The three of us stood silently staring at the bus as it squeaked to a stop and opened its doors. The initial rush of air that splashed over us was hot, smelling of oil and burning rubber, but as several people moved out of the bus, wisps of the air conditioning inside trickled around me encouraging me to shuffle quickly onto the bus. Closely following the two people in front of me I climbed up the steps and waded into the crowded aisle. The people ahead of me quickly found seats and settled in, leaving me standing with no other seats available.
I shuffled further back into the bus until I felt a cool breeze on my face. Spotting one of the cooling vents I moved to where I could feel a rush of air over me. Reaching up to grab one of the overhead safety rails I let the air conditioned air flow into the loose sleeve of my tee shirt as I felt the bus lurch forward. I braced my feet as the bus dove into the traffic.
Once I got situated in the cool air and braced against the stop and go movements of the bus I began looking around at the surroundings, first at the advertisements that seemed plastered over every open square inch of surface, then at the intriguing artwork and comments that defaced and in a few instances enhanced the advertising. Only after a few minutes of absorbing the ads and art did I begin to carefully glance at some of the other passengers.
Careful not to catch anyone's eye, I slowly scanned the diverse and very motley group of bus riders. While I had ridden the bus the same time probably twenty times in the last month it took some time before I finally recognized someone, a chubby... no a fat Hispanic woman holding a very dainty, elegant purse. Careful not to let her see me staring I noted the great care she seemed to have taken in her makeup, clothing and accessories and yet her hair was a disheveled mess. The term "bad hair day" came to mind except that I remembered that she seemed to look that way every day, perfectly made up and dressed with a shocking disheveled mop of a hairdo.
Seeing her head turn in my general direction I quickly looked away and spotted another passenger I had seen before. Though we'd only shared the bus perhaps three times that I can remember, this guy was not one I'd forget. He was huge, completely taking up a seat originally designed for two passengers. In spite of the comfortably cool temperature on the bus, sweat streamed down his shaved head, and his shirt was mottled with large, dark and wet stains. His arms were muscular, perhaps the size if my thighs and his hands, now resting on his knees, were huge. Wanting to avoid him noticing me I quickly looked away toward the front of the bus.
It was only then that I saw it, amid the all the backs of heads, the necks, the assorted shirt collars, odd hair styles and shoulders, muscular, fat, hidden, sensuous and just plain odd shoulders I saw it. Barely noticeable at first, as I looked closer at the woman's shoulder I could see it peeking out at the edge of her sleeveless blouse. Partially covered by a white bra strap I first noticed the color, a blue... no, many blues in subtle, various shades ranging from a faint sky blue to a deep turquoise. It was a wave, similar to one I had seen in a painting, a Japanese painting which had a huge wave and in the distant background Mt. Fuji. It seemed as if I was looking at the wave from that painting in miniature on this woman's shoulder.
The bus pulled to a stop and several people got up to get off. I worked my way forward and happily noticed that she was not getting off the bus at that stop. Moving closer to the front of the bus I was unable to grab a seat because several people got on and quickly grabbed the open seats. I did notice a couple of seats open way at the back of the bus, but I liked the view I had standing. By now I had moved much closer to the woman with the tattoo, so close that I could reach out and touch it if I dared.
I guess the bus started moving, but I was now oblivious to everything around me, focused only on the woman's tattoo. Well, not only on the woman's tattoo, I'd peek at the bra strap, notice how it firmly pressed against her skin, and the image infused into that skin. I wondered of her breasts, not noticeable from behind her but obviously there, supported by that bra and the strap that hid part of the beautiful wave.
I glanced over at her neck, at the way a few errant strands of hair dangled from the elastic bands holding her hair up curling over the delicate flesh. Returning my gaze to the tattoo, I then noticed she had moved a bit, exposing a bit more of the wave, the deep blue at the base... almost indigo that emphasized the white foam from the splash at the head of the wave. Feeling myself drawn into the image I could almost feel the cold splash of the water as I began to drown in her.
"You like the wave?" she suddenly asked me.
Feeling dizzy, I shook my head and moved my attention from the tattoo. I looked up and noticed the faintly brown skin of a woman's cheek and then looked into the deep, black eyes of a beautiful Asian woman. Speechless, all I could do was look at her face.
"The wave, do you like it?"
It was a woman's voice. Realizing she was talking to me I shook my head again and said, "Excuse me?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were looking at the tattoo," the attractive Asian woman said.
"Yes, I'm sorry, yes I was looking at it. It is very intricate, such detail."
"Thanks, it was tough getting them to do this so small. It's from 'Mt. Fuji from the Offing in Kanagawa, by Hokusai.' It's only a small part of the piece."
"I thought I had seen it before, from a painting," I replied.
"Not a painting a print, a block print to be exact. Part of Hokusai's 36 Views of Fuji," she replied, smiling as she turned in her seat to look at me better. "You like tattoos?"
"I've always been fascinated by them. Not all of them, but the ones that are, ah... artistic I guess."
"Do you have any?"
"No, I thought about it, but always backed out."
"Yeah, that first one is the hardest to do."
"You have more?" I asked, very curiously.
"Well, I don't know if I know you that well?"
"Oh yes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
Suddenly she turned a bit further and facing me, pulled her blouse a bit to one side, exposing her upper chest and a hint of her bra. There just at the edge of the bra, slightly hidden, was another part of the Hokusai's print, Mt. Fuji. Once again the small tattoo was intricately detailed, that, though partially hidden showed wonderfully distinct variations in coloring. The white capped peak edged itself underneath her bra and when I tilted my head a bit to perhaps see a bit more of it she reached down and pulled off the blouse.
