“Hiccup”

I sat on bus 71 from Slussen towards Sickla to meet up with my parents and do grocery shopping. It was the 18.22 bus, in the middle of rush- hour. A lot of people were fighting about to few seats. Just before we were about to leave the station when a couple mentally- retarded, well dressed not taller than a dwarf, entered the bus.

“ Hiiicccc , hiiicccc … “ loudly broke the untold rule of quietness on the bus. Entered into the private sphere of the passengers. The sound were followed by a commentary

-       Hick-up, hehehhe, you sound worse than I did hehehhe, the woman said, now standing behind me in the back of the bus.

Meanwhile a girl and her boyfriend in their thirties entered, she sat down and he stood in by the doors in the middle of the bus where strollers usually are placed. The bus left the station.

The hick-up continued and every time the woman next to him commented loudly Hick-up. Half the way through town, past the ferry terminal and turning in towards Sickle there were none on the bus not affected by this couple. If I were to choose a moment to be able to read minds this would be one. I could see on the man sitting by the window seat next to me in his suite that he was disturbed, focused straight ahead. The girl sitting across the walkway form me one seat down looked at her boyfriend and then at med leaving a smile on her lips. I smiled back; don’t know why it just felt natural.

The electronically voice said “Kanalvägen”

-       Again, here is “kanalvägen” again, said the woman who made a brake in her comments on hick-ups.

The thing is that she was right we had just left “ kanalvägen” heading towards next station. She laughed and so did he follow by a new hick-up.  Now some got really irritated and others smiled even more. The bus stopped at, “Sickla Udde” and as usually the half the bus were getting of. A woman who had been sitting in the front stood up, ready to get off, she turned her head and she were smiling almost giggling when she left the bus.

“Next Sickla allé “, the electronically voice was back.

-       Allé alllé allé …(as in the song of Ricky Martin), a hick-up comment and then allé allé allé were heard form the woman… here they left the bus hand in hand.

I had one station left and when it strikes me is that this couple captured a whole bus full of commuter in rush- hour.

A few years ago I might have been one of these turning my ipod volume up, focused on my paper, trying to not hear the obvious sounds of this couple. It would have disturbed my order. But, today I turned the volume down and a felt a wave of happiness I even said that “everything is love” quiet for my-self.  Maybe I wouldn’t have reacted s I did if it wouldn’t have been for my sister bringing me to Circus and the musical-play of Elvis, put up with a cast of mentally- retarded.

That show might give those on stage a lot, but they sure gave me more than I understood for the moment. I remember sitting there, not with an opened mind I can tell you, but maybe without preferences or expectations of what to see and experience. Me my self have a deep interest in acting so I kind of watched it with the eyes of a journalist and regarded it as a new touch of the concept of musicals.

The first thing that I noticed, to be a journalist is sometimes like being a police, you take in the surroundings, the environment, the subtle messages sent among people, the spectators them self and then you focus on the scene; torn it in to pieces that is possible to work with. This evening they’re where three major things that both touched me, surprised me and made me re-think my values.

First, the mentally retarded actors where totally shining way over the “normal” actors that are in the ensemble.  Their charisma, and their natural credibility in being just in the moment, unable to do two things at the same time delivered an uncovered character. This leads to the second, which is one of the best scenes that I have ever been privileged to witness on stage. A girl is sitting on the side, a bit in the background but fully seen, on a bench, just sitting there while Elvis is presenting a solo- number.  What on earth can be so good about sitting? Well, have you ever tried to just sit on a bench on stage? I have and I have seen other do so, and one thing I can tell you is that 99% tend to sit as if they were on Titanic wearing a tight corset and being judged on their posture. It’s everything but natural. Just intellectually think of all your small ticks that you actually do when waiting for the bus, especially if you don’t think that anyone sees you. That was what I saw that evening. A girl sitting on a bench, probably not aware of that she was in the spotlight, and also probably not aware of the outer world. She was just sitting on that bench. And I thought this is what Stanislavski talked about, this is what all there great actors strive for, and here I m to watch it on stage. If I even would have half of that pure humanity manifested in a character I could bring all roles into life.  Thirdly it warmed my heart that the whole upper inner rows pulled up their cell-phones like in a concert during another of the solo-pieces by Elvis. And in line with this I was glad to see that the audience was from 10 to 100 tears old, on visit from the countryside in jeans and funny clothes to the businessman and woman in suits arrived straight from work, to families. 

I m glad that I got invited by my sister to join with her, my mum and dad for this amazing show, the only musical I have ever seen, and I have seen to many if you would ask my ex-boyfriend, this one will stay in my mind.  and like all master pieces through-out history leave a mark, revealing something about the true human soul.