Posted: 7. March 2010 in Uncategorized

I waited at the bus stop for seventy minutes. The bus was supposed to come and go again with me on it at 1812, but it was delayed – no surprise.

Due to a slight touch of flu, I had to urinate, defecate, vomit and blow my nose, but neither would be appropriate at the time. I was not alone at the bus stop. My frustration urged me to action, and I lit up a cigarette, challenging fate to let the bus appear down the street. Fate did not accept the challenge. As an innocent pass time, I started to discretely examine the appearance of my fellow commuters.

The dominant figure at the bus stop was a big guy in a black overcoat with a Viking beard and a black skull cap. Something in his stature made me suspect him of being a military man, perhaps on leave from service in a far away country. There was an aura of adventure surrounding him, of fantasy, sorcery and live role playing.

He reminded me of my time in Horse Town.

I met many a fine warrior in Horse Town. Horse Town was and still is host for Europe's biggest and most fashionable Medieval Festival, and this annual event legitimate a touch of the medieval and the Gothic in the ways and outfits of the people of Horse Town. Tattoos, leather, amulets on gold chains and facial hair is not something for bikers only in Horse Town, and even though my current place of residence, the fine city of Odd Town is even older, the medieval lifestyle does not reach the same level of official acceptance as in Horse Town. It is as if this, the third biggest city in my country, has been undressing herself and left her old worn cloths on the beside table to put on the shining robes of a more cosmopolitan future.

Would, by chance, this young fellow, be one of the last of the ancient warriors whom I know still roam the streets?

As his absolute counterpart the young blond girl next to him was displaying no interest what so ever in anything else than the shining 480-by-320-pixel 163 ppi resolution touch screen on the wireless Internet device resting in her hand.

In March 1791, brothers Claude and Ignace Chappe were ready for a first public demonstration of the so-called telegraph they had constructed. For the first experiments, two modified pendulum clocks were used. One was placed on a terrace at the former location of a castle in Chappe's home town and the other at the window of a private house in Parcé, a little town at a distance of roughly 16 km and about halfway between Brûlon and La Flèche. When the pointer of one clock passed over the number one wanted to indicate, a sound was made, announcing to the correspondent that the number which also his pointer indicated at the moment that the sound was heard, was significant. By representing the words in a dictionary with successive numbers one could thus transmit any thought.

Unfortunately, we do not have an accurate description of the working of the pendulums that were used in the first experiment, and the information we have leaves many questions unanswered. However, this experiment of wireless long distance communication became the kick-start of a massive 200 year's worldwide technological steeplechase called the communication revolution.

The visible result of this being streets swarming with people with lowered faces, reduction of eye contact, the simple, original and still most effective wireless communication, is inevitable. As a sideeffect the coincidental meeting of strangers is devaluated.

Ah, the riches we sacrifice on the altar of industry…

A dubble beam of yellow ligth indicated the coming of my bus. In an instant I flexed out of bewildered nostalgia, and in the bowls of another mechanic monster I rolled down town.

(To be continued)

  1. Furie says:

    An iPhone? :yuck: Hope you gave her a slap from me. :up: I live in a country mostly preoccupied with football victories from decades ago and getting as much alcohol into themselves as possible. It's why I'm meeting people here rather than out there.

  2. BabyJay99 says:

    Hope you recover fast Sir Martin. And love this article 😉

  3. Spaggyj says:

    Hmmm, an interesting memory mixed with musings of today. I look forward to more of this.

  4. 26superman26 says:

    GReat article….shud continue soon……

  5. Aqualion says:

    Thank you, all. It's good to be back. After what I believe is one of the heftiest winters I've had, my life has reached a level of balance again, and I am ready for new adventures. You are welcome to join me.

  6. 26superman26 says:

    I Can toast to that…..no realy ….ima do that ryt nw! a toast to lyf nd itz unlimited adventz

  7. gdare says:

    Great story Martin, I could see the scene in my mind: lion, girl with chewing gum and a viking at a same place :lol:Actually, you didn`t say she was chewing a gum, but this is what I saw :left:

  8. Zaphira says:

    Seventy minutes waiting for a bus? :faint: You ought to buy yourself a bicycle.:up: On the other hand – if waiting time creates posts like this, then please keep your monthly season ticket! :yes:

  9. Aqualion says:

    Well, it was not exactly seventy minutes… But, as we say, exaggeration promotes understanding. Five minutes at a bus stop in this weather can easily feel like a lifetime. I always use waiting time to contemplate on matters of less or no importance at all. It's the key to surviving urban Denmark.

  10. edwardpiercy says:

    I've always thought that waiting for a bus at night was a strange thing. Waiting during the day I pace, look at my watch, fully expecting that the bus will be there at approximately the time designated. But at night my feeling is more insecure for some reason. I don't just wonder about the time, but wonder whether the bus will even be there at all, or whether the night will just cause the bus to somehow disappear.

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