adventure in Tri met part I
The coins in my pocket are shifting in the sweaty palm of my hand. The cars woosh by mindlessly, heading towards their destinations at a much more rapid speed than I. For I am a bus rider. I have been riding Tri-met for the better half of 4 years. I brave the crazy, the stinky, the OD'd and the loud. Adventures in Tri-met are a never ending story packed with details of foul breath, foul language and a whole lot of drama. I am armed with my book. It is an essential part of public transit survival. Headphones are an even better idea, but alas, I do not own any.
I see the bus in the distance, its great roof towering above traffic. I step closer to the curb to thwart any attempt to drive past me. Oh, dont think that they wont. In the name of "staying on schedule" those wiley drivers will keep their eyes straight ahead and leave you with nothing but the mud puddle they splashed on you. Not today. I wave my hands wildly as if signaling some sort of disaster and I see the blinker turn on. The doors open and I step up onto the bus. It is packed full. Standing room only. I groan silently to myself. "Theres no need to wave like that girl." The old bus driver says to me, his grey whiskers crinkling up as he smiles. "You look like you signalin' a fire!" he says and laughs a belly laugh into the microphone, where everyone on the bus can hear him say: "Move out the way folks, blondie got a fire to get to!" A few people join in his chorus of laughter as he lurches the bus foward with one hard press on the gas peddle. Lead foot, a common problem amongst bus drivers. I crash into the homeless man in front of me and the smell of urine and vomit and cigarettes fills my nose. I gag. He smiles a yellow, semi-toothless grin. I move to the back of the bus where I see a hidden seat.
Its morning and most of the people are commuting to work. That makes it less likely for there to be a total crazy on the bus. Let me tell you though, if there is but one crazy on the whole bus-they'll find me, you can gaurantee it. I make no eye contact and find the seat. I have to wake up an old man that is snoring to get to it, but so be it. Its mine for the taking. He glares at me. I sit down anyway. I hear a woman muttering to herself behind me. Softly though, so its not too bad. I do detect some curses being utterd under her breath. My book is opened and I am totally engrossed. After five minutes I smell the most wretched smell that I can only compare to the manure that was sprayed on the fields where I grew up. Only worse. I crinkle my nose in disgust and look around. Of course, you can hardly ever tell who dealt it. All eyes are looking straight ahead. Then the man next to me looks over and says. "My bowels aint what they used to be" his gravelly voice is somber. "And my wifes cookin' gives me gas somethin' fierce." He then proceeds to rip a new one so loud that people in the front look back. "Good lawd, I need to find me a bathroom." he says with a grimace. I curse my seat selection and pull my scarf around my nose, looking for another possible seat. Of course there is none. Then, the silence is broken.
"Mothafucka!!!!" yells the woman behind me. The barely audible mumbles have turned to screeches. "Did something crawl up yo ass and DIE?!?!" "Get the FUCK off my bus you stinky mothufucka-before I BEAT your stanky ass off!!!" The man beside me looks behind him and says "It aint MY fault lady!!" "You trying having IBS sometime!!" And, as if on cue, he lets another one rip. Everyone in the back of the bus is grimacing as the smell drifts towards them. "IB-what?!?!?!" she screeches, her breath laden with liquor. "IB-kicken your rotting mothfuckin ASS if you dont stop!!" It goes on like this for 10 minutes or so. Farting, yelling, farting, yelling. Eventually, the bus driver pitches in and starts yelling into his microphone. He threatens to kick the screecher off. I secretly wish it was the farter who was getting kicked off, but I geuss you cant expell someone for gas problems. A damn shame.
My quality reading time has all but been abandoned as my senses are assaulted with stink and screeches. I look out the window as the bus driver comes to an abrubt stop and walks angrily back to kick off the screecher. You can see his nose crinkle up the closer he gets to noxious fumes that have overtaken the back of the bus. I sigh and look at my watch. I am going to be late for work. I look up at the wall where there are various sayings like: "Tri-met. See where it takes you."
I grin to myself as I think up a much more appropriate slogan: "Tri-met. If its not the yells, its the smells."
More adventure coming soon from a bus stop near you.
I see the bus in the distance, its great roof towering above traffic. I step closer to the curb to thwart any attempt to drive past me. Oh, dont think that they wont. In the name of "staying on schedule" those wiley drivers will keep their eyes straight ahead and leave you with nothing but the mud puddle they splashed on you. Not today. I wave my hands wildly as if signaling some sort of disaster and I see the blinker turn on. The doors open and I step up onto the bus. It is packed full. Standing room only. I groan silently to myself. "Theres no need to wave like that girl." The old bus driver says to me, his grey whiskers crinkling up as he smiles. "You look like you signalin' a fire!" he says and laughs a belly laugh into the microphone, where everyone on the bus can hear him say: "Move out the way folks, blondie got a fire to get to!" A few people join in his chorus of laughter as he lurches the bus foward with one hard press on the gas peddle. Lead foot, a common problem amongst bus drivers. I crash into the homeless man in front of me and the smell of urine and vomit and cigarettes fills my nose. I gag. He smiles a yellow, semi-toothless grin. I move to the back of the bus where I see a hidden seat.
Its morning and most of the people are commuting to work. That makes it less likely for there to be a total crazy on the bus. Let me tell you though, if there is but one crazy on the whole bus-they'll find me, you can gaurantee it. I make no eye contact and find the seat. I have to wake up an old man that is snoring to get to it, but so be it. Its mine for the taking. He glares at me. I sit down anyway. I hear a woman muttering to herself behind me. Softly though, so its not too bad. I do detect some curses being utterd under her breath. My book is opened and I am totally engrossed. After five minutes I smell the most wretched smell that I can only compare to the manure that was sprayed on the fields where I grew up. Only worse. I crinkle my nose in disgust and look around. Of course, you can hardly ever tell who dealt it. All eyes are looking straight ahead. Then the man next to me looks over and says. "My bowels aint what they used to be" his gravelly voice is somber. "And my wifes cookin' gives me gas somethin' fierce." He then proceeds to rip a new one so loud that people in the front look back. "Good lawd, I need to find me a bathroom." he says with a grimace. I curse my seat selection and pull my scarf around my nose, looking for another possible seat. Of course there is none. Then, the silence is broken.
"Mothafucka!!!!" yells the woman behind me. The barely audible mumbles have turned to screeches. "Did something crawl up yo ass and DIE?!?!" "Get the FUCK off my bus you stinky mothufucka-before I BEAT your stanky ass off!!!" The man beside me looks behind him and says "It aint MY fault lady!!" "You trying having IBS sometime!!" And, as if on cue, he lets another one rip. Everyone in the back of the bus is grimacing as the smell drifts towards them. "IB-what?!?!?!" she screeches, her breath laden with liquor. "IB-kicken your rotting mothfuckin ASS if you dont stop!!" It goes on like this for 10 minutes or so. Farting, yelling, farting, yelling. Eventually, the bus driver pitches in and starts yelling into his microphone. He threatens to kick the screecher off. I secretly wish it was the farter who was getting kicked off, but I geuss you cant expell someone for gas problems. A damn shame.
My quality reading time has all but been abandoned as my senses are assaulted with stink and screeches. I look out the window as the bus driver comes to an abrubt stop and walks angrily back to kick off the screecher. You can see his nose crinkle up the closer he gets to noxious fumes that have overtaken the back of the bus. I sigh and look at my watch. I am going to be late for work. I look up at the wall where there are various sayings like: "Tri-met. See where it takes you."
I grin to myself as I think up a much more appropriate slogan: "Tri-met. If its not the yells, its the smells."
More adventure coming soon from a bus stop near you.
posted by Selené Emrys at 4:00 PM
1 Comments:
made my coworkers laugh
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