The moth

By Bob

The air inside the bus was warm and stifling, even though many of the windows were opened. The No. 12 lumbered along Barbur on its way from downtown on a late summer night. About 20 riders dozed, listened to headphones or texted.

And then it appeared. A moth, brown in color and about the size of a matchbook, fluttered its way from the back of the bus toward the front. The moth darted to the ceiling and then descended, dancing along the tops of the riders' heads. A few people noticed, but most sat unaware, listening to tunes or concentrating on cell screens.

When the moth reached the front of the bus, it turned and made its way back. And upon reaching the rear, it again turned and headed forward. It was doing meandering laps, like a stoned version of Michael Phelps with wings.

A few riders began to pay attention, especially when it would descend to eye level. The moth seemingly would toy with some people, flapping its wings and circling their heads, forcing them to shake it off.

One guy's dodging motions got the best of him and his head struck the head of the young man sitting next to him. "What the ... ," the surprised neighbor blurted out. Then they both laughed, as did several people sitting behind them.

For about five minutes, the wandering moth entertained about a dozen people in the back of the No. 12. The moth continued its laps before an audience that now and then yelled out encouragement and warnings.

"Look out, there," a woman said when the moth closed in on an oblivious rider in the front. "Go, baby, go," said another passenger as the moth picked up speed on its return trip to the rear.

Then, while midway along a lap toward the front of the bus, the moth suddenly darted toward an open window and flew out into the darkness.

And the riders returned to their headphones and cells.