Bus Stories

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ignatius
Oak Tower
Oak Tower
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Joined: Wed Feb 19, 2003 2:42 pm
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Bus Stories

Post by ignatius »

I wrote this a couple years ago for the Jazz Institute of Chicago and a NYC jazz site.




______________________________________
woke up, fell out of bed,
dragged a comb across my head
found my way downstairs
and drank a cup,
and looking up I noticed I was late...
(lennon/mcCartney)





A Day in the Life of a Bus

Wed, 6.27.2k1, ~8:04a

I usually take the Broadway line to work, which runs behind my building, but this morning I just barely missed it. This line only runs every 30 minutes so instead of waiting for the next one, I walked a block over to Main - a line that runs every 10. I saw the bus coming from a block down so I ran across the street making it in, well, seconds flat.

I hopped on the bus, slid my monthly pass through, sat down, pulled out my Palm Vx and continued on reading an ebook I had loaded up, "Atom". But I wasn’t able to concentrate with all of the commotion. A drunken sexagenarian white man hopped on at the next stop and would not sit still. The bus driver warned him to settle down or he will kick him off.

To my right and one seat up, an Asian couple was arguing about something - and rather vehemently. Based on my past experience as a minority Caucasian student at a mostly Asian/Persian engineering school, I'd guessed this couple’s dialect as Laotian.

The drunk man still fidgety started moving around seat to seat. The bus driver tells him to stay put or he is out. I don’t think he heard the driver. The man, now sitting in front of me, smelled much like a working-class person of Old World culture who does not ever bathe and instead piles on gallons of strong scents. He stood up again. Unusual for me, I somehow involved myself with the situation. I stood up, pushed him down and told him to stay put. He stayed.

The next stop. Two blind people got onboard with their guide dogs; common on this line as there is a school for the blind up the road. They sat up front.

Next stop. Entering was an octogenarian+ black woman with excessively wrinkled skin. Her eyes suggested she had lived the street for a long time. She had what appeared to be a small musical instrument case in her right hand. She took her time moving all the way to the back of the bus.

The drunk man was talking to himself, the Asian couple was arguing up a storm, the dogs were restless and the whole bus seemed to have much tension. Just as I made a last effort to read my book, a soothing sound came from the rear.

.....

I glanced back in a flash and see the old black woman completely in jam mode on her flute. She was whistling up a mean tune, completely engulfed as if possessed.

The dogs started to howl in tune to the flute.

The Asian couple stopped arguing and just listened, mesmerized and zombified.

The drunk man stopped talking to his imaginary guide and appeared in bliss.

The vibe of the whole bus had changed.

The flute decreased to a softer tone in the rear, the dogs up front were singing/crying, keeping up with every change, the bus riders had been put under some kind of spell. I felt a bit numb.

The flute playing abruptly stops.

Ding.

The old woman gets off the back of the bus.

The blind people get off the front of the bus at the same stop.

The drunk man was still in a perpetual state of bliss.

The Asian couple seemed to have forgotten their problems.


Ding.

I go to the front, ready to exit but first look back at the riders, still in their spell.

I get off, head to the office and contemplate this little interruption in context of our daily lives.
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tat2kc
Bryant Building
Bryant Building
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Post by tat2kc »

:shock: very very cool!!!!
Are you sure we're talking about the same God here, because yours sounds kind of like a dick.
carfreekc
New York Life
New York Life
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Joined: Wed Apr 23, 2003 9:59 pm
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Bus Stories

Post by carfreekc »

I second that! Nice piece, ignatius.

This is from an essay I wrote for a class when I lived in Denver. It's one of my favorite bus memories.
------------
Your bus home drives through a retirement community with buildings that compete in a December holiday decorating contest. Apartments are draped in rows of lights between moving reindeer statues and banners. This night, there are only a few of you on the bus, including a young family with a small child. As you enter the complex, the driver thinks to cut the interior lights, "so the baby can see the lights better," as he announces into his microphone. The dark bus winds through the spectacular holiday displays with a hushed charge inside. Without the glare of the interior lights, the splendor of the displays parades before you, like the starlit sky from inside a plane.

(From http://www.kcbusstop.com/archives/000602.html)
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