On Leaving Hugo
Mon Aug 25, 23:07 | OnHugo is a man on my bus every morning and every evening. Over the past few months, I’ve seen him almost every day.
His name isn’t actually Hugo. I just called him that after I noticed he was wearing Hugo Boss pants. He wears a lot of designer clothing – Nike shoes, Hugo pants, Calvin Klein shirt – but he wears the same thing every day, which makes me wonder whether he has a cartoon character closet or washes his things every night. He also carries this strange leopard print shopping bag that remains in the same shape day after day.
He’s about middle aged, and almost definitely single. I’ve never seen where he walks to when we both arrive at our home stop at night. I’m assuming he lives in the cheaper housing in the neighborhood, however. He has a pleasant voice (on the few occasions he’s talked to the driver) and a solitary demeanor.
Hugo gets off the bus at Higgins and Main. This is surprising, considering anyone who can afford $500 pants generally doesn’t even breathe while passing through that area. When he gets on the bus to come home, he often smells of body odor really badly, sometimes to the extent that I can’t sit directly behind him or be near him when he pushes the strip to exit the bus. I assume he either works in a mission or at a construction site. Wherever it is, it’s definitely someplace without air conditioning.
He can read Ukrainian, and I believe that’s his family’s nationality from both sides. I noticed him reading a tourism book one day that was written in Ukrainian and he didn’t seem to be struggling with it at all. He has a distinctively Ukrainian nose and face, and dark hair. Sometimes, he wears a baseball cap.
He has very, very nice cursive handwriting, and sometimes writes in a small notebook.
The funny thing about Hugo is that we’ve never spoken a word to another. We’re familiar strangers – we both “know” one another despite never actually talking. I don’t even know his real name, and even if I did I’d probably still call him Hugo.
I like Hugo; he’s an interesting person to observe. None of my observation has been intentional, but I feel like I’ve gotten to know him to an extent, moreso even than some of my friends. Now that I’m moving, I realize I won’t be seeing him much (if at all), and even though I’ve never talked to him, I’m kind of sad to know he won’t be around any longer.
You really have to wonder – is there someone else to whom you play the Hugo role, has someone else casually observed you in this same manner, and if so, what do you think they think of you?
We’re all Hugos at one point in our day – be it to the bus driver, the fast food clerk, the bartender, the barista. We all play a passive role in the lives of people to whom we’ll never really interact with.
It really is a fascinating phenomenon of living in a city, being a known unknown – one I’m not sure I’ll ever quite understand.
I do understand, however, that you can’t rely on passive people to be fixtures. Something always changes. Maybe I might say goodbye when I move.