The Bus Stops Here
I made the wrong bus reservation home from New York. Wrong city, wrong date, wrong time, all wrong. Consequently, I had to wait standby for the next bus. Fine. I've been practicing being patient. Patient is me.
This poor man standing next to me was not a seasoned traveler. He had attempted to take the 7:30 a.m. bus, but waited on the wrong corner and missed it. I overheard him on the phone with the bus company explaining his situation. He hung up with the understanding that he could get on the 8:30 a.m. bus, the same bus I was waiting for, without a problem. We stood there waiting - me checking and rechecking my work email and him tapping his foot and looking down the street every ten seconds.
The man did not know that, when riding standby, queue order is most important. If only one open seat remains, the first person gets that seat. If there are two seats, the first two people get on. And so on. No one told him this. When the bus pulled up, I immediately found the driver and asked if I could ride standby. I was person number one in the queue, naturally. I saw the man putting his luggage on the bus and thought to myself, "Do not put your luggage on unless you are guaranteed a seat sir." But I didn't say anything as I am newly in the business of minding my own business. We waited. When it was time to board and the woman pointed to me and yelled, "SHE! IS! FIRST!" very loudly and rudely to the other standby-ers inquiring into the standby status.
"Actually, if I can have him go first," I said motioning to the poor man who had been there since 7:00 a.m., "He missed his earlier bus."
"YOU ARE FIRST!" she interrupted. "DO YOU WANT TO GET ON THE BUS?"
"Yes, but his bus was actually earlier..." I started.
"DO YOU WANT TO GET ON THE BUS?"
"Yes but he..."
"WHAT ARE YOU? HIS ATTORNEY? EITHER YOU ARE FIRST OR YOU DON'T GET ON THE BUS!" she said.
Oh my.
"Well thank you anyway," said the guy as the bus driver took a call on her cell phone. When she hung up, she announced that one was getting on the bus due to a booking error. One problem remained: the guy's luggage was on the bus.
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO PUT YOUR LUGGAGE ON THIS BUS! THIS IS NOT YOUR BUS! THIS IS NOT! YOUR! BUS!" she yelled, forcing the poor man to open the luggage door and take out everyone's luggage to get to his, which was stupidly placed in the back. Again, no one told him. At the sight of the massive luggage removal, the bus driver freaked out. I'm not sure what she told the people on the bus, but suddenly a herd of passengers rushed off the bus and yelling at the man and pushing their luggage back in. I've never seen anything like it. It was pure panic, but there was no emergency.
I backed away with my luggage and went back to our waiting place on the wall, next to the deli, with air-conditioner juice dripping all over us. There was nothing lux about this situation. So we waited. Waited. Waited. I made some work phone calls and freaked out about a little nothingness per usual and the 9:30 a.m. bus pulled up. At this point, one would think the man would have a better understanding of stand by. Not so much. Again, I asked the driver (dude this time) to ride standby. He told me to stand aside and that I was first. I see the guy in the distance looking at his luggage and stressing the fuck out to whomever he is speaking with on the phone. Probably the poor woman who works at the bus company. I grew concerned for this man, but then another, larger man tapped on my shoulder. He did not have exact change and to pay-to-ride you need exact change. He was wondering if we can pay together. Certainly we could pay together, but he was quite a few down in the queue and I'd have to explain it to the bus driver. Again, the new bus driver said, "You are first. You can board the bus." The first man was now standing kind of by the line confused, scratching his head. I could not take it.
"Actually, he was first," I said pointing to the man.
"NO he wasn't!" interrupted the crotchety woman behind me.
"YES he was," I replied, looking back and glaring a the woman. "And mind your own business."
The new bus driver was much less concerned with rules than the 8:30 a.m. bus driver, so he let the unseasoned traveler go first and me second. When I approached the bus drive, I attempted to tell him about the payment situation.
"There is a guy a few back," I began.
"THAT IS NOT FAIR!" interrupted the woman behind me, literally craning her neck around me, eyes bugging out of her head.
"No," I attempted to clarify. "He doesn't need to cut the line I just wanted to..."
"NOT! FAIR!" and you know when people get that weird spit stuff in the corners of their mouth. I was about to vomit.
"But..."
"I don't think that's fair," said the bus driver siding with the woman. I hadn't even explained anything yet!
I gave up. Clearly this bus situation was every man for himself. Survival of the fittest. That dude without exact change was on his own. Don't say I didn't try.
I wish this were the end.
Quietly and calmly, I chose my seat and sat down to dial into my 9:30 a.m. call. Behind me, I heard a different equally grotesque old(er) woman.
"You are in my pers-on-al space," she said curtly to the passenger beside her. I peered behind me and saw that poor exact changeless-man sitting beside her. Now, to be fair to the woman, the guy was a bit bigger than the average Joe and would likely be in anyone's personal space.
Offended the man replied, "I am not in your space. This is my space. This is your space. How am I in your space?"
"You are, and you need to move over I can't have you crowding my seat whole trip."
"I'm not in your space."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
Am I in hell? I turned around because at this point, I've lost all hope for humanity. "You all are being inappropriate and disturbing the rest of the passengers on the bus," I said shortly.
"Wu-hell!" began the woman, "I have a right to some solidarity," she said. I wondered if that is the correct choice of words. One would be quite foolish to choose a budget bus as an environment for solidarity. Even still, solidarity wasn't the right word.
"It's because of the color of my skin!" said the man. Oh for crying out loud. Here we go.
"It is not! Do you know who you are talking to?" says the woman.
"No, I don't," says the man.
Rewind: I'm not in regular hell; I'm in hell for idiots.
So I turned back around, "Would you like to switch places with me?" I asked the woman.
She looked around like she didn't hear me properly. She appeared very confused, so I added, "You might be more comfortable up here."
"Yes, I think I will," she said. I closed my computer, put it back in my bag, and got up. She just sat there looking like a deer in headlights. She did not move.
"Well," I said, "gather your personal belongings." She snapped back to reality and gathered her belongings. I slid in next to the bigger man who did not have exact change, and dialed into my phone call three minutes late.
For the record, the man sat with this fly unzipped, smelled and was snoring loudly nearly the entire trip, which I decided was infinitely better than the woman complaining about the man, fly unzipped, smelling badly and snoring loudly the whole trip.
Oh, I left out the part about the crackhead woman chewing on her tongue who twice tried to get on the bus with a cigarette, but I think you get the picture just as well.
Emma Dinzebach
This poor man standing next to me was not a seasoned traveler. He had attempted to take the 7:30 a.m. bus, but waited on the wrong corner and missed it. I overheard him on the phone with the bus company explaining his situation. He hung up with the understanding that he could get on the 8:30 a.m. bus, the same bus I was waiting for, without a problem. We stood there waiting - me checking and rechecking my work email and him tapping his foot and looking down the street every ten seconds.
The man did not know that, when riding standby, queue order is most important. If only one open seat remains, the first person gets that seat. If there are two seats, the first two people get on. And so on. No one told him this. When the bus pulled up, I immediately found the driver and asked if I could ride standby. I was person number one in the queue, naturally. I saw the man putting his luggage on the bus and thought to myself, "Do not put your luggage on unless you are guaranteed a seat sir." But I didn't say anything as I am newly in the business of minding my own business. We waited. When it was time to board and the woman pointed to me and yelled, "SHE! IS! FIRST!" very loudly and rudely to the other standby-ers inquiring into the standby status.
"Actually, if I can have him go first," I said motioning to the poor man who had been there since 7:00 a.m., "He missed his earlier bus."
"YOU ARE FIRST!" she interrupted. "DO YOU WANT TO GET ON THE BUS?"
"Yes, but his bus was actually earlier..." I started.
"DO YOU WANT TO GET ON THE BUS?"
"Yes but he..."
"WHAT ARE YOU? HIS ATTORNEY? EITHER YOU ARE FIRST OR YOU DON'T GET ON THE BUS!" she said.
Oh my.
"Well thank you anyway," said the guy as the bus driver took a call on her cell phone. When she hung up, she announced that one was getting on the bus due to a booking error. One problem remained: the guy's luggage was on the bus. "I TOLD YOU NOT TO PUT YOUR LUGGAGE ON THIS BUS! THIS IS NOT YOUR BUS! THIS IS NOT! YOUR! BUS!" she yelled, forcing the poor man to open the luggage door and take out everyone's luggage to get to his, which was stupidly placed in the back. Again, no one told him. At the sight of the massive luggage removal, the bus driver freaked out. I'm not sure what she told the people on the bus, but suddenly a herd of passengers rushed off the bus and yelling at the man and pushing their luggage back in. I've never seen anything like it. It was pure panic, but there was no emergency.
I backed away with my luggage and went back to our waiting place on the wall, next to the deli, with air-conditioner juice dripping all over us. There was nothing lux about this situation. So we waited. Waited. Waited. I made some work phone calls and freaked out about a little nothingness per usual and the 9:30 a.m. bus pulled up. At this point, one would think the man would have a better understanding of stand by. Not so much. Again, I asked the driver (dude this time) to ride standby. He told me to stand aside and that I was first. I see the guy in the distance looking at his luggage and stressing the fuck out to whomever he is speaking with on the phone. Probably the poor woman who works at the bus company. I grew concerned for this man, but then another, larger man tapped on my shoulder. He did not have exact change and to pay-to-ride you need exact change. He was wondering if we can pay together. Certainly we could pay together, but he was quite a few down in the queue and I'd have to explain it to the bus driver. Again, the new bus driver said, "You are first. You can board the bus." The first man was now standing kind of by the line confused, scratching his head. I could not take it.
"Actually, he was first," I said pointing to the man.
"NO he wasn't!" interrupted the crotchety woman behind me.
"YES he was," I replied, looking back and glaring a the woman. "And mind your own business."
The new bus driver was much less concerned with rules than the 8:30 a.m. bus driver, so he let the unseasoned traveler go first and me second. When I approached the bus drive, I attempted to tell him about the payment situation.
"There is a guy a few back," I began.
"THAT IS NOT FAIR!" interrupted the woman behind me, literally craning her neck around me, eyes bugging out of her head.
"No," I attempted to clarify. "He doesn't need to cut the line I just wanted to..."
"NOT! FAIR!" and you know when people get that weird spit stuff in the corners of their mouth. I was about to vomit.
"But..."
"I don't think that's fair," said the bus driver siding with the woman. I hadn't even explained anything yet!
I gave up. Clearly this bus situation was every man for himself. Survival of the fittest. That dude without exact change was on his own. Don't say I didn't try.
I wish this were the end.
Quietly and calmly, I chose my seat and sat down to dial into my 9:30 a.m. call. Behind me, I heard a different equally grotesque old(er) woman.
"You are in my pers-on-al space," she said curtly to the passenger beside her. I peered behind me and saw that poor exact changeless-man sitting beside her. Now, to be fair to the woman, the guy was a bit bigger than the average Joe and would likely be in anyone's personal space.
Offended the man replied, "I am not in your space. This is my space. This is your space. How am I in your space?"
"You are, and you need to move over I can't have you crowding my seat whole trip."
"I'm not in your space."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
Am I in hell? I turned around because at this point, I've lost all hope for humanity. "You all are being inappropriate and disturbing the rest of the passengers on the bus," I said shortly.
"Wu-hell!" began the woman, "I have a right to some solidarity," she said. I wondered if that is the correct choice of words. One would be quite foolish to choose a budget bus as an environment for solidarity. Even still, solidarity wasn't the right word.
"It's because of the color of my skin!" said the man. Oh for crying out loud. Here we go.
"It is not! Do you know who you are talking to?" says the woman.
"No, I don't," says the man.
Rewind: I'm not in regular hell; I'm in hell for idiots.
So I turned back around, "Would you like to switch places with me?" I asked the woman.
She looked around like she didn't hear me properly. She appeared very confused, so I added, "You might be more comfortable up here."
"Yes, I think I will," she said. I closed my computer, put it back in my bag, and got up. She just sat there looking like a deer in headlights. She did not move.
"Well," I said, "gather your personal belongings." She snapped back to reality and gathered her belongings. I slid in next to the bigger man who did not have exact change, and dialed into my phone call three minutes late.
For the record, the man sat with this fly unzipped, smelled and was snoring loudly nearly the entire trip, which I decided was infinitely better than the woman complaining about the man, fly unzipped, smelling badly and snoring loudly the whole trip.
Oh, I left out the part about the crackhead woman chewing on her tongue who twice tried to get on the bus with a cigarette, but I think you get the picture just as well.
Emma Dinzebach
Been a while Emma dear---how are you?
This was a great entry, but I do have to say it sounded like one of my trips from hell, lol.
Hope all is well
Miss you
Love Frannie
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