Posted in
bum,
bus,
crazy hobo,
light rail,
public transportation,
tall tales,
trax
Everyone has taken the bus at least once. Which is enough to know about the race of Bus-People living among us. This subset of the species is a collective hodge-podge of people whose defining characteristic is that they LOVE telling their story to anyone and everyone and as much as possible. You can see them moving from spot to spot, making their rounds, repeating the same story over and over to everyone. No matter how uninvited they are.
You may be in the back of the bus staring out the window and listening to an ipod, or else taking a nap, but before you know it a bearded man with egg-breath and a mouthful of crooked (or missing) teeth will be next to you, rambling and chatting like you've been buddies for 50 years.
And he tells you the whole story, sparing nothing and, apparently, no detail is too personal. It doesn't matter that he's just met you, and it doesn't matter that he'll never see you again (you hope), he wants you to know what it's like to walk in his shoes. How unfairly he's been treated. And, if you're lucky, he'll let you in on a secret the government is trying to cover up. Whether it's the fountain of youth or the cure to cancer--he knows about it, and he's more than happy to let you in on the secret free of charge. You're the only attention he ever gets.
Mostly these guys are full of crap. Not the same way a politician or a lawyer is full of crap, where you have to pay close attention to detail to catch them. Oh no, this kind of crap can be identified from miles away. It’s the high volume of aliens, magic, and/or conspiracy embedded deep within them that makes it clear these tales are taller than the Macau Tower.
When you get on the bus you know you're doing it at your own risk. Chances are you'll get more than your $2.25 bargained for. Either do like I do and enjoy the stories or else don't ride. But if you do ride, remember it's always safest to agree with the speaker, even if he's talking nonsense.
Here are some of my favorites, in no specific order:
This one happened to me. I was cruising westbound on 3500 about a year ago when three weird looking dudes came and sat in the back with me. Much like Mormon missionaries they decided to do some proselyting and talked to be like I was somehow investigating their absurd religion. No they weren't Jehovah Witnesses either, they were self-proclaimed "Satanists." ... it was all I could not to laugh. I understand someone not believing in god, or believing in another type of god, but if you're going to accept that the god is the Christian God, then why throw in with the losing side? I said I'd think about it, and I did. I thought about how stupid it was.
On that same occasion, after the three stooges got off the bus, another guy came to the back and sat by me. He commented on how ridiculous the Satanists were and I laughed too, thinking this guy is all right. At least a little sane. But then he started raving about his god. And I just didn't want to have that discussion. I managed to side-track him, for better or for worse. He told me about a magical river in Rock Springs, WY so full of fish that you can poke it with a sharp stick and catch between twenty and fifty. Of course "they don't want you to know about it", whoever they are. Because I said I knew where Rock Springs is (it's on the way to my cousins' house) he gave me "detailed" directions on how to find this river. "It's past the tree and around the bend" sort of thing. I told him I'd look for it next time I was in the neighborhood and I got off at my stop. As I left he urged me to find the river, I smiled at him and went on my way.
Another time I skipped my last class and took an earlier bus than usual. And before long I got talking to this really bummed out guy. I just wanted to cheer him up a bit "nice day, how are you doing?" sort of thing. But within 10 miles he'd told me all about his job situation, his health problems, his family/friend difficulties, why he'd been ripped off about 10 times in the last day, and that he was a "closeted" gay man.
Too bad closeted gays don't tell strangers on the bus that they're gay.
I was friendly to him, because I felt bad. But I think he got the wrong impression somehow and he asked me for my phone number and wanted to know when we could hang out. Maybe get some coffee. Like I was his best friend ever. "Oh sorry man, I don't have a phone," of course. It was the best I could come up with on the spot. "But I take this bus all the time." He was wise to me though. "I've never seen you on it before." ...oops. "Really?" I said, feigning surprise, grateful that I'd taken drama/improv in junior high. "That's pretty weird." I played like I took the bus all the time and he decided he must not have noticed me before. He got off at his stop and waved as the bus pulled away from the curb.
I never skipped my last class again.
But as good as these stories of mine are, and there are several more, my friends can top them. Here are a few.
Matt:
The thing about Matt is that he's the worst morning person I've ever seen. Sluggish to the max. He hates being dragged out of bed for any reason and if he hasn't had his desired fifteen hours of sleep, he'll be like the walking dead. I've seen zombies with more awareness. His eyes are practically shut as he moves along, dragging his legs, and a scowl is glued to his face. Unlike me, he won't snap out of it and become alert when awakened prematurely. His body will continue to sleep all it wants and he'll just be unresponsive for the next several hours, or however long he needs. I tell you this so you can understand how incredibly unapproachable he is in the morning. His whole atmospphere radiates that he wants nothing to do with conversation or interaction in any form. He is the walking dead.
But on one of these mornings he took note of a "bus person" on the other end of the bus. This disheveled man seemed so excited to talk to someone, anyone, that he was glowing. Matt thanked the gods he was on the other side of the bus and decided to not make eye contact. Well it didn't take long for this dude to wander over and sit next to Matt. Matt did the best he could, looked profoundly uninterested, and looked away. He could tell this guy really, really, really wanted to talk to him, but Matt wanted to avoid the conversation almost as much. But the bus-dude won out in the end. After a couple of false starts (attempts to get Matt's attention via body language) this guy sat next to Matt and just started speaking. And very directly, right at him.
"I KNOW WHERE THE GOLD IS!" Was his opening line. From that he explained how Cortez, with a troop of stage performers, travelled the rocky mountains in the 19th century and buried a mountain of gold in a secret enormous cache. But, fortunately, this guy knew the real story, and exactly where this treasure was. I don't know to what extend Matt participated in this conversation, but it wouldn't surprise me if Matt didn't say one word and simply nodded. But, apparently, this guy was so happy to have this tale off his chest he was lighter than a sinner after confession.
On another occasion, not too long ago, Matt saw a "bus-person" get off the bus and take a crap in front of it. Everyone on board was disgusted and the driver had to "call it in."
But that's nothing compared to what Dave experienced.
Dave:
I don't know the details because I only talked to Dave about these stories once, and only in brief. But here are the short versions.
Once while stuck in bumper to bumper traffic on highway 201, out of nowhere this big islander guy runs up to the bus and starts beating the door with his hands saying "Let me in! Let me in!" of course, the bus driver refused. This didn't please our islander friend so he used the bike rack on the front of the bus to climb to top where he sat (or stood) on the bus. Fortunately there was a cop nearby and as he came over the islander guy climbed off the bus and ran away. (He failed to escape.)
Another time Dave was using public transit, the light-rail train in this case, and he saw a strange looking guy sitting alone. He kept talking to himself, like there was someone next to him, but the only other person on the train was Dave, who was quite a ways away. This guy kept telling nobody, or Casper, or whoever to "Quit it! Stop it!" And a few seconds later when Nobody—apparently--continued to do whatever it was this guy didn’t like, he exploded and drew a very large knife. “That’s it, I’ve had it!” he said as he started stabbing the seat next to him. .... Dave got off on the next stop and waited for another train.
---
Yep. Welcome to public transportation.
You may be in the back of the bus staring out the window and listening to an ipod, or else taking a nap, but before you know it a bearded man with egg-breath and a mouthful of crooked (or missing) teeth will be next to you, rambling and chatting like you've been buddies for 50 years.
And he tells you the whole story, sparing nothing and, apparently, no detail is too personal. It doesn't matter that he's just met you, and it doesn't matter that he'll never see you again (you hope), he wants you to know what it's like to walk in his shoes. How unfairly he's been treated. And, if you're lucky, he'll let you in on a secret the government is trying to cover up. Whether it's the fountain of youth or the cure to cancer--he knows about it, and he's more than happy to let you in on the secret free of charge. You're the only attention he ever gets.
Mostly these guys are full of crap. Not the same way a politician or a lawyer is full of crap, where you have to pay close attention to detail to catch them. Oh no, this kind of crap can be identified from miles away. It’s the high volume of aliens, magic, and/or conspiracy embedded deep within them that makes it clear these tales are taller than the Macau Tower.
When you get on the bus you know you're doing it at your own risk. Chances are you'll get more than your $2.25 bargained for. Either do like I do and enjoy the stories or else don't ride. But if you do ride, remember it's always safest to agree with the speaker, even if he's talking nonsense.
Here are some of my favorites, in no specific order:
This one happened to me. I was cruising westbound on 3500 about a year ago when three weird looking dudes came and sat in the back with me. Much like Mormon missionaries they decided to do some proselyting and talked to be like I was somehow investigating their absurd religion. No they weren't Jehovah Witnesses either, they were self-proclaimed "Satanists." ... it was all I could not to laugh. I understand someone not believing in god, or believing in another type of god, but if you're going to accept that the god is the Christian God, then why throw in with the losing side? I said I'd think about it, and I did. I thought about how stupid it was.
On that same occasion, after the three stooges got off the bus, another guy came to the back and sat by me. He commented on how ridiculous the Satanists were and I laughed too, thinking this guy is all right. At least a little sane. But then he started raving about his god. And I just didn't want to have that discussion. I managed to side-track him, for better or for worse. He told me about a magical river in Rock Springs, WY so full of fish that you can poke it with a sharp stick and catch between twenty and fifty. Of course "they don't want you to know about it", whoever they are. Because I said I knew where Rock Springs is (it's on the way to my cousins' house) he gave me "detailed" directions on how to find this river. "It's past the tree and around the bend" sort of thing. I told him I'd look for it next time I was in the neighborhood and I got off at my stop. As I left he urged me to find the river, I smiled at him and went on my way.
Another time I skipped my last class and took an earlier bus than usual. And before long I got talking to this really bummed out guy. I just wanted to cheer him up a bit "nice day, how are you doing?" sort of thing. But within 10 miles he'd told me all about his job situation, his health problems, his family/friend difficulties, why he'd been ripped off about 10 times in the last day, and that he was a "closeted" gay man.
Too bad closeted gays don't tell strangers on the bus that they're gay.
I was friendly to him, because I felt bad. But I think he got the wrong impression somehow and he asked me for my phone number and wanted to know when we could hang out. Maybe get some coffee. Like I was his best friend ever. "Oh sorry man, I don't have a phone," of course. It was the best I could come up with on the spot. "But I take this bus all the time." He was wise to me though. "I've never seen you on it before." ...oops. "Really?" I said, feigning surprise, grateful that I'd taken drama/improv in junior high. "That's pretty weird." I played like I took the bus all the time and he decided he must not have noticed me before. He got off at his stop and waved as the bus pulled away from the curb.
I never skipped my last class again.
But as good as these stories of mine are, and there are several more, my friends can top them. Here are a few.
Matt:
The thing about Matt is that he's the worst morning person I've ever seen. Sluggish to the max. He hates being dragged out of bed for any reason and if he hasn't had his desired fifteen hours of sleep, he'll be like the walking dead. I've seen zombies with more awareness. His eyes are practically shut as he moves along, dragging his legs, and a scowl is glued to his face. Unlike me, he won't snap out of it and become alert when awakened prematurely. His body will continue to sleep all it wants and he'll just be unresponsive for the next several hours, or however long he needs. I tell you this so you can understand how incredibly unapproachable he is in the morning. His whole atmospphere radiates that he wants nothing to do with conversation or interaction in any form. He is the walking dead.
But on one of these mornings he took note of a "bus person" on the other end of the bus. This disheveled man seemed so excited to talk to someone, anyone, that he was glowing. Matt thanked the gods he was on the other side of the bus and decided to not make eye contact. Well it didn't take long for this dude to wander over and sit next to Matt. Matt did the best he could, looked profoundly uninterested, and looked away. He could tell this guy really, really, really wanted to talk to him, but Matt wanted to avoid the conversation almost as much. But the bus-dude won out in the end. After a couple of false starts (attempts to get Matt's attention via body language) this guy sat next to Matt and just started speaking. And very directly, right at him.
"I KNOW WHERE THE GOLD IS!" Was his opening line. From that he explained how Cortez, with a troop of stage performers, travelled the rocky mountains in the 19th century and buried a mountain of gold in a secret enormous cache. But, fortunately, this guy knew the real story, and exactly where this treasure was. I don't know to what extend Matt participated in this conversation, but it wouldn't surprise me if Matt didn't say one word and simply nodded. But, apparently, this guy was so happy to have this tale off his chest he was lighter than a sinner after confession.
On another occasion, not too long ago, Matt saw a "bus-person" get off the bus and take a crap in front of it. Everyone on board was disgusted and the driver had to "call it in."
But that's nothing compared to what Dave experienced.
Dave:
I don't know the details because I only talked to Dave about these stories once, and only in brief. But here are the short versions.
Once while stuck in bumper to bumper traffic on highway 201, out of nowhere this big islander guy runs up to the bus and starts beating the door with his hands saying "Let me in! Let me in!" of course, the bus driver refused. This didn't please our islander friend so he used the bike rack on the front of the bus to climb to top where he sat (or stood) on the bus. Fortunately there was a cop nearby and as he came over the islander guy climbed off the bus and ran away. (He failed to escape.)
Another time Dave was using public transit, the light-rail train in this case, and he saw a strange looking guy sitting alone. He kept talking to himself, like there was someone next to him, but the only other person on the train was Dave, who was quite a ways away. This guy kept telling nobody, or Casper, or whoever to "Quit it! Stop it!" And a few seconds later when Nobody—apparently--continued to do whatever it was this guy didn’t like, he exploded and drew a very large knife. “That’s it, I’ve had it!” he said as he started stabbing the seat next to him. .... Dave got off on the next stop and waited for another train.
---
Yep. Welcome to public transportation.
