A Few Notes from the Bus

When you’ re the only passenger, the bus becomes an enormous limo.

"I was on the bus..." I have a few stories that begin that way.

I've been riding the bus in St. Louis for 32 years because I can't drive a car. You really get to know the place from that vantage point. People talk about what a dangerous place this is, but in all that time I've seen exactly one fight on the bus. Most people are going about their day, eager to get to work or to get home. Most people say please and thank you and try to stay out of each other's way. Many are swiping through their phones. No guns, no violence, no weirdness (so far). I always thank the bus driver when I exit, even if they're rude.

Bus stops provide practice for learning patience and the riding experience itself teaches lessons about tolerance and compassion. I know from experience that making it in St. Louis without a vehicle is very challenging, but we're all going where we need to go and we're doing it together. We are all equal on the bus. I like the down-to-earth vibe of riding public transportation.

Sometimes I overhear things or have brief encounters.

I was at a bus stop in a rough part of town, waiting with a group of teenagers. I wear a pair of red filter sunglasses that are pretty conspicuous.

This one kid says in a quiet, deep voice, "Them shades are hard."

I got it. I thanked him, but inwardly I felt like the oldest, squarest, uncoolest guy on the planet, like I was expected to say, "Oh, well golly, thank you very much, young man!"

"Always take a tissue witchoo!" I overheard a father say one day to his young son. Wise words.

I got on the bus one day and the woman behind the wheel offered to sell me a doughnut. "It's not included with the fare?" I asked. "No, thanks." Like I'm gonna eat bus doughnuts. Not without a city health inspection.

Once I was on the bus and the driver pulled over, got out of the bus and went inside a Kentucky Fried Chicken to order his lunch. We waited patiently for about ten minutes until he got back on the bus and resumed his route.

Once I was on the bus reading my Kindle and I heard voices from the seat behind me.

"Aw, he readin'." the guy said. "He readin' the Bible." For a second I felt the halo over my head.

"No he ain't," said a female voice. She was right. I was not as innocent as I seemed. I forget which book I was reading, but it wasn't the Bible. Probably a Russian novel back then. Probably something about human wretchedness.

For years there was a guy on the bus who sold bootleg DVDs out of a backpack. He had menus of all the movies he carried and passed them around the bus so people could choose. He also had candy bars and other snacks. Then he would collect three or four bucks for each movie. I saw him one day when he wasn't selling movies. Instead, he was giving his thoughts about scripture, mentioning that he was a minister, saying "But the Bible says...". Apparently selling pirated movies was just a side hustle and not his true calling. Hey, whatever you have to do to survive.

That’s my ride.

I taught night classes in a school that required me to commute for an hour and forty minutes each way. I would go home, sleep a few hours, grade papers until dawn and get on the bus and rail again for a morning class. One day I fell asleep on the bus. The driver recognized me and asked the other passengers to wake me up so I could get off at my stop. All I remember hearings is a bus full of people yelling, "Hey, man!" When I opened my eyes, everyone on the bus was looking at me. "This is your stop!" Bewildered, I thanked the driver and got off. That was one perceptive bus driver. I love it when people do something kind when you don't expect it.

I was on the bus once in the dead of a cruel and icy winter. Several people lined up to get on the bus, including a mother and her very young child, dressed in a snowsuit with idiot mittens and a ski cap. The guy in front of her helped her small child on to the bus by gently grabbing the child's hands and lifting him gently onto the first step.

The mother admonished him, saying "You shouldn't grab other people's kids like that. You could have been trying to take him."

He scoffed, "I ain't gonna take your kid. Hell, you could have one of mine!"

My friend N. was visiting from Europe and we rode the bus to get to the Metrolink so we could go downtown and ride the tram up to the top of the Gateway Arch. The bus was unusually full and noisy that moist spring day. Lots of hooting and loud laughing. I turned to her and said, "How do you like the bus so far?"

Just then, a guy who had been presiding over the ribaldry said, "God damn! I want a steak dinner with a Gatorade!"

Amen, brother. I hope you found it.