As I was making my way home from work on the 22 bus with Lindsay, five tourists boarded the bus a few stops after us. Though they boarded the bus together, they sat scattered about bus as if they didn’t know each other. They were speaking Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish. All of them had really (really) nice cameras laced around their necks, and the man with the nicest camera sat in the seat across from me. Lindsay and I were chit-chatting — nothing special. I was staring off into the distance as I usually do when I noticed a flash go off. I turned slightly to look at the man with the really (really) nice camera and it was pointing at us on his lap. I didn’t say anything. He took our photo a few more times. Lindsay got off on the next stop. I was sitting alone now. He continued to take photos of me. I didn’t want to look at him. He got up and asked a man with a large stand-up bass if he could take his photo… but he never asked me. At this point I began to realize that all five of these travelers were taking photos of unsuspecting bus riders. I still didn’t want to say anything. I liked this concept, actually. I was just jealous I hadn’t thought of it first.
As I was leaving, I smiled at the man who sat nearest to me. He then raised his camera and took my photo and smiled back.

I did a little flickr search… enjoy.

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by M T Sullivan

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by Lou O’ Bedlam

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by surlygrrrl

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