Adventures on the Bus, Part 1

When I started working downtown a decade ago, it was inevitable that taking the bus would become part of my routine (seeing as how no one had seen fit to make me a VP of something and get me one of those coveted monthly parking passes paid for by work).

Of course, since I lived in the country or suburbs for much of those ten years, my experience was limited to commuter express busses and taking the occasional very short trip on a city bus from work to school.

Those experiences did not prepare me for the city bus, the true city bus.

The differences are multitude.

For instance, the act of getting on the bus: Commuter bus people line up very neatly and get on the bus in the same order they arrived at the stop. Very little incivility takes place. For a city bus? It's a mad dash of who can get to the doors first, little old ladies and people with babies be damned.

My first eventful bus ride came one Friday night when I'd had a few at happy hour after work and was feeling my oats. Or as the Big B would say, I was in the first stage of drinking (according to him, I have two phases when I drink: Obnoxious and Pathetic. Obnoxious drives him up a wall, Pathetic amuses him).

A big part of the dynamic between the Big B and I is the fact that we love to push each other's buttons. I don't recall exactly what was said, but between my Obnoxiousness and his general crank-itude with people who are drinking when he isn't, I got myself worked into a right proper drunken huff.

He had picked me up from the bar downtown and drove us to the poker night his friend hosts every week. Still in a snit, I sat down to play and get snotty. I was quickly out of the game between my attitude and lack of focus, but was still feeling restless and obnoxious. I decided to go home, even though I didn't have my car.

I told everyone goodbye and left. I heard some people asking "How's she getting home?" but ignored it. I was gonna teach the Big B a lesson, dammit!

14 blocks later on Johnson, I'm waiting for a bus to take me downtown to catch another bus that will take me to my part of the urban sprawl surrounding Minneapolis. By this time the alcohol had been walked off, but stubborn, stubborn idiocy remained and I wasn't about to walk the 14 bocks back and concede defeat, oh no!

Very soon I'm downtown, judging the bus as it slides up to the sidewalk so that I am right in front when the doors open (avoiding any shoving/pushing from the masses behind me). It's after ten and the bus is empty to start with, but quickly fills up at this busy stop.

Stupidly, I make my way to the back and sit down. Big mistake! This is typically where the hoodlums and good-for-nothings sit, far away from the bus driver. Very soon I'm surrounded by a gaggle of teens who are intent on various forms of copulation and fun aided by alcohol, who apparently cannot sit in one seat but must instead bounce around from one to another, and even into some laps as they flirt and fast talk each other.

I ignore them as best I can, earbuds in place and book clutched tightly in hand, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the bus and occasional jostlings from fellow passengers playing musical bus seats.

The scuffle, when it happened, was as predictable and inevitable as a crackhead denying the drugs are his when stopped by the police.

Apparently the group was not as homogenous as I thought, for as some started exiting the bus one young man could not find his phone and this led to a bull rush down the bus aisle. He was met chest to chest near the rear door by another young man and they proceded to shove and shouts of "Who took my phone? I'm not playin'!" and "I don't have your phone, man!" could be heard up and down the bus.

The bus driver is yelling, the lone teen is getting jeered at by the other guy's friends and I'm sitting next to my windown, surreptitiously watching everything. The Lone Ranger stalks off the bus...almost. Before he is all the way off, he stops. One foot on, one foot off, holding the bus hostage.

More verbal sparring, more emphatic shouts of denying any wrongdoing with regards to one missing cell phone. Finally he steps all the way off, but the driver pulls the air brake and the bus shakes and settles closer to the ground, gaining that feeling of permancy you get from a vehicle in park. Through the window I can clearly see the agitated youth, pacing the sidewalk in front of the bus, gesturing angrily now and then.

When the hissing noise sinks into the brains of those around me, a fierce discussion begins on whether they should skeedaddle now since the cops are coming or stand their ground. One tiny girl, white-blond hair surrounding her pale face and eyes ringed in dark racoon makeup, is particularly worried and manages to chivvy her boyfriend into getting off the bus. This leads to a veritable stampede as the rest follow.

The minute the last goon's foot leaves the bus, the driver closes the doors and calmly continues driving the route.

On with business as usual.

However, one person must have been extremely relieved that the situation was resolved without the authorities.

A few stops later I look up as another young man gets on the bus and exchanges one of those " 'Sup" head nods with a passenger in front of me. My elevated seat in the back gives me a bird's eye view of the action, as the new rider greets the seated one with a hand slap/shake and a bag of something is quickly exchanged behind the cover of the seat-back. The bus driver yells back that the newcomer hasn't paid his fare yet and he backs up, smooth as hell, and says, "That's all right, this is the wrong bus" and exits stage right.

I wasn't paying enough attention and missed the money exchange, or perhaps this client was extended credit or allowed to "front".

Either way, it was the slickest random drug deal I've ever seen, because the customer immediately pulled the cord and got off at the next block.

What coordination! Granted, it is the only random drug deal I've witnessed, but you have to admit that was well timed and executed if nothing else.