Passerby

By: Tom Thornton
September 10, 2008

The bus driver curbed and stopped the city bus. He made an announcement over the new electronic system on the new digitalized bus. “This bus is experiencing some engine trouble. We will ask you to deboard, stay out of the street, and everyone will be able to get on the next 147 bus, which will be coming up behind us shortly. We apologize for the inconvenience . Thank you.”

The passengers grunted and groaned and started debarking. One of the passengers asked the bus driver sarcastically, “Will there be another charge?”

The bus driver smiled and said, “No.” Then, he repeated again over the electronic system, “There will be no charge to get on the next bus today.” That drew a few laughs from the disgruntled passengers.

John got off the bus through the rear door. Seems like these new high-tech buses have more problems, John thought. In fact, he was right about that. It was the end of February, 2003, now. Another long, hard winter was drawing to a close in the Midwest. The temperature was now in the mid 40s. It felt good outside to John, for a change. He didn’t have to quickly put on his wool hat and gloves to avoid freezing, like he had for the past over three weeks now. Des Moines, Iowa, had been going through a very bad cold snap lately.

John was only about six blocks from home right now. He decided to walk the rest of the way home. He started walking down University Avenue toward 39th Street, where his condo was located. When he reached 43rd Street, he glanced down the street. Although John and his wife had lived here now for over 12 years, he did not even recall ever even driving down 43rd Street. Something about 43rd Street looked different to John now. Something strangely interested John on the street. There were a lot of nice masonry buildings with quaint ornate work in stone and metal. John decided to walk down 43rdand, then, around the block, adding another three blocks to his walk home. He knew he could use the exercise. It had been a long cold snap, in which John had not exercised much at all. He was getting fat again.

In this area of Des Moines, Iowa, near Drake University, there were no large city buildings, just houses, condos, small apartment buildings and townhouses. All the buildings here were three stories or under. The single family homes were so large that they could have been on frat row. The only larger buildings were those down the street at the University itself on campus.

I can start driving again tomorrow, John thought, as he walked. John had not driven his expensive BMW to the University during all the cold, snow and ice. He didn’t like leaving it outside in the faculty parking lot during the day. It was easier to take the bus on inclement weather days.

John stopped in front of the last building on the block, on the corner of 43rd and Hubbel. There was a three-story building there, which stuck out like a sore thumb. It looked like it was constructed entirely of lumber. It was painted red. It was a bloodier, more crimson shade of red than most barns in the Midwest. The paint job on the building looked perfect to John. He could not see any peeling or chipping anywhere. The building looked like something right out of the Wild West era of American history, circa 1840-1890. Atop the building in front on the sloping roof were ornate wood carvings and cornices. The siding lumber was made mostly of 4 by 6s. Those types of planks had not been used in construction for a very long time. What the hell is this? John thought.

Although the building was foreboding, John was drawn to it. He felt almost a gravity-like pull from the building. John was a physicist and his curiosity overcame his fear of the building. He walked up the S-shaped, brick walk to the large, oak door, which was not painted red. It was black, as black as the darkest night. It had a huge, ornate, brass door rapper on it. John could not see any electronics anywhere.