Bus People
That’s why I love to ride on the omnibus–you can look at people. We were made to look at one another, weren’t we? –Degas
If New Jersey Transit didn’t exist, Degas would have to have invented it. If you’re the kind of person who thrives on people-watching, a day on the bus is an embarrassment of riches, the kind of experience that reminds you to never, ever say, “Okay, now I’ve seen everything.” ‘Cause you haven’t. Not even close.
Case in point: One day, I’m riding the bus and a tallish, bespectacled, somewhat stooped gentleman gets on and sits down a few seats from me. And starts speaking in tongues. This goes on for a block or two, and then he settles down into silence, staring out the window. At least until, several stops later, another gentleman–this time looking like Billy Gilbert–gets on, and (whaddaya know) starts speaking in tongues. Well, this started up a call-and-response of glossalalia that made the bus sound like a Pentecostal revival meeting for a minute or two.
And then, silence. And then Gentleman Number One looks at Number Two, eyes wide, and exclaims, “I’m not talkin’ to you any more. I may be mentally ill, but brother, you’re crazy!”
Between the two of them, though, they’ve got nothing on one of my favorite bus terminal denizens (I won’t name the bus terminal, to protect his privacy). The first time I saw him, he was pacing up and down the terminal, chanting the following litany:
Ladies and gentlemen, there shall be no smoking in the bus terminal. There shall be no eating in the bus terminal. Also, there will be no sex in the public bathrooms, as there may be minors present and we do not wish to corrupt them.
Days later, the same person informed anyone who’d listen (namely, me; I can never seem to resist) of the following wonderful information:
Wonderful news! It’s payday today, yes, ladies and gentlemen, it’s payday today. Owing to the government courier crashing, it’s payday and the lottery and the numbers, all in one. Oh, yes, it’s payday today!
Joyous news, to be sure. What in the heck was I supposed to do with it, though? Maybe one of these days he’ll let me in on the secret.
August 1st, 2008 at 11:49 pm
I had my share of viewing various colorful types on the Els. What I miss most about Chicago, other than the food and the bars, was the train conducter driving the Red Line during rush hour that I would most often take. I could never see him, but his voice made him sound like an old grizzly black man. “5 o clock, let’s go home. Time for a gin and cocktail. Addison next. TGIF, Addison next” (or any combination of hillarious things like that. This being before they fucking automated all the train annoucements) I also developed a particular fondness for the 6:30 am #151 bus driver. Never have I met a man so cheerful to be driving a bus so early in the morning. I almost cried when he changed routes. What can I say? Simple things make me happy!
August 10th, 2008 at 7:06 pm
The other day, I was sitting next to an old lady on the bus who was talking in this shrill, nasally voice. And the driver yelled back (basically at her) to be considerate when talking on cell phones.
The problem was, she was just talking to her granddaughters, not a cell phone in sight. But it got her to shut up anyway and everybody was quite relieved.
Yeah, it was funnier when it happened.
August 10th, 2008 at 7:59 pm
Sometimes you just have to be there. On the other hand, those shrill, nasally voices just cut right through ya, so I’m kinda glad I wasn’t…