The Wheels On The Bus

I bring you today another tale of my tangible exploits out-of-doors, leaving the cerebral for another day. I recently related in three parts a multi-birthday Saturday night. This story will not be so expansive, and so I won't have to close the book over your protestations and admonish you to sleep. Now, I was down for the count in the early going Sunday, scrapping my plans for attending a baseball game, which itself forced the cancellation of my usual plans for morning church service in Beverly Hills.

Happily, I was able to get myself together in more than enough time to plan on evening church services downtown. Ordinarily, if I'm going to that service, I take a brief bus ride to the nearest subway station, riding that until I get downtown. From there, I walk a good distance until I reach the venue. It's an often colorful commute, but seldom an especially eventful one. On this particular occasion, I thought I'd spare myself the long walk by taking two buses, the second of which would deposit me right by my destination. I don't know that I will be doing that again.

The first bus was one which I take on a semi-regular basis. Immediately, my time on it that day was distinguished by an interesting occurrence. A kid and his girlfriend sat close to the driver, and I walked past them within paying them any special attention until I heard the driver remonstrate the kid for eating on the bus. He appealed on the grounds of mitigating circumstances, complaining of being really hungry. This appeal was denied. It wasn't over on that bus. As we got to a steep bridge leading into the most cosmopolitan district of Burbank, we came to a police blockade. The driver was confounded by this, and solicited suggestions from us on detours. One was proffered, and she went with it while complaining over the radio to her superiors.

The second bus came a bit late, but that's normal. I suspected it could have been related to the blockade. It began to get interesting when a rough-looking, heavy-set man with a soda cup from Yoshinoya got on and sat directly across from me. He coughed really badly without covering his mouth, and I was momentarily concerned that he may have expectorated something onto me. An examination proved those fears unfounded, and I thus said nothing. A second rough character, however, asked him to cover his mouth. The cougher consented to this and offered his apologies. The second tough was apparently not mollified, and asked brusquely what the cougher was looking at. The cougher expressed a plan to sit elsewhere, and followed through on it. There was where the confrontation ended.

Those weren't the only interesting characters. With the cougher rambling to no one in particular about anthrax, somewhere in there was a man playing loud rap music. I was very annoyed, and wanted to say something. I tend to not seek out confrontation, and sometimes that's to my detriment. Not this time, I don't think. The unidentified aluminum can concealed in a paper bag that he was taking swigs from suggested to me that I keep my beef to myself, and so I did, that I might remain in good health to write this now.

Some other observations came to mind during the ride. The bus taking me downtown passed through Chinatown on the way south. It's a steep downgrade, and I wondered if there were anything to be gained from the driver's perspective by announcing that the bus was hurtling out of control towards certain doom. If the situation wasn't quite that bad, neither did it feel as if things were firmly in the driver's control either. I guess the suspension was just exceptionally bad. The bus was about shaking to pieces at normal speeds on decent road surfaces. Needless to say, it smelled like piss, but I don't know that this came about suddenly as a result of a fellow rider who couldn't handle the scary ride. It might have been like that already.

It was well that I could talk with friends and unwind a bit before the service began, as even my iron nerves were a bit frayed after some of what had led to that point. I sometimes welcome a tranquil and speedy ride in a private car, but then how would I ever build such character as I have or come up with such interesting stories to tell?