Waiting for the Bus

Again, in transit.  Or rather, sitting on a bench in the Harlem train station waiting for the MTA bus service to arrive.  Sometimes it's 10 minutes, today it's probably going to be closer to 45.  Luckily I have technology to let me know to stay indoors until it is approaching.

Although, in all honesty, I'm not waiting for a train.  I took one, but I'm waiting for the bus.  There are a lot of people that would like to spend the night in this space, but non-ticket holders are not allowed indoors. As I have the luxury of sitting here, I am aware of all the police officers chasing people outside.    What a world.  What privilege I have.  Showered, clean, white, undisturbed and undisturbing.  Granted, it seems that as long as one isn't loitering or panhandling, they don't have a problem, but it's hard to live several hours in the station unnoticed.  

I should go outside out of principle.  And yet it's cold and I have my cello.  It risks damage.  Do I have more to lose being outside?  What is valuable, what is left to be lost from anyone?   Livelihood, things hard won, our protectionism.

Now that I have been here for 30 minutes and the bus is on the way, I will compromise and leave, waiting outside likely for 10-15 minutes.  What is right?  What have I learned to do and what must I do?