77f
today i got back on the bus, gus...another post baby death first. my bus is the veterans' hospital bus, so on any given day you never know which schizophrenic or recovering junkie you may find yourself next to. the first time i saw one of the schizophrenics talking to himself and didn't freak out, i felt oh-so-very-urban. if you saw "american splendor", the bus i take is the bus harvey pekar used to take.
when i first started my current job, i took the bus almost every day, and through it started to get to know my now very good friend cynthia. then justin changed to his current schedule, where he works from 1:30 to 9:30, and i started going in at 10 instead of 8, so we could at least see each other a little during the week, and it wasn't so fun to ride the bus without cynthia, and i started riding only once or twice a week.
last spring, before i got pregnant, i had the first personally bad experience i ever had on public transportation; actually, it happened as i got off the bus. as one of my fellow riders got off ahead of me, he paused on the sidewalk. when i got off, my bag ever-so-slightly brushed against his bag, and as i walked away, i turned my head back and said, oh! excuse me.
this man said, excuse me? excuse me? what the fuck? who do you think you're talking to bitch?
i was stunned (not so urban after all, huh), and i looked around and said, were you talking to me?
oh, yes, he was talking to me. another woman from the bus took my arm and shook me out of my shock and said, just walk away from him. so i turned and walked down a block and over two in public square to catch the 22 the last leg home. but this man followed me for those three blocks, screaming obscenities at me the whole way, threatening me and pretty much all of my loved ones. two dumb-looking suburban kids, probably thinking they were pretty cool to be hanging out downtown, had the misfortune to cross my path and invite my harrasser's wrath on them, for their failure to fight him over their white sister.
it was the first time i ever felt afraid in my adopted hometown, and i don't care to experience that feeling again. just as i reached the bus stop, the 22 magically pulled up (which it never, ever does), and i jumped on and didn't start breathing until i realized he hadn't followed me on to the bus.
i didn't ride the bus again for a week. i recognized the man as someone who rode the same route and schedule i did with some regularity, and i was terrified. but a week later something or other came up where justin had to have the care, and i got back on the bus. justin waited until i got on the 77f without him, but at the last stop before we left downtown, my pal jumped on the bus.
this guy was not the regular rider headed to rehab at the VA. he always wore impeccable suits, and his hair was always carefully styled, and i knew from what i overheard on the bus that he was some kind of financial advisor - not your regular looney. he sat down right in front of me, and i just kept my head down in my book as though i noticed nothing, although my heart was racing. eventually he engaged the older man next to him in polite conversation. the other man rides to the VA every day, rain or shine, and he was happy for the attention. as we got close to my buddy's stop, the older man said, now what is your name again. ha! he mumbled something, and the old man said, what was that? and he said, joe. the older man, god bless him, said, and your last name? he hestitated and then said, you know, like the laundry detergent. the older man, who was now my hero, said, what detergent? and he mumbled, downey. the older man repeated it like a mantra, joe downey, joe downey. the balance of power had shifted.
from that point on, i was no longer afraid to run into him, but i haven't seen him since. once i got pregnant, i could count on my hands the times i rode the bus, because i was so tired the entire time, and taking the bus adds a couple of hours to my commute. but today i got welcome back with a bang, so to speak. after i got off the 77f and was waiting in public square for the 22, a guy who was passing the time reciting rap lyrics sauntered over to just over my right shoulder and recited the part about all of the whiteys getting taken out, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. i looked the other way and yawned. i survived joe downey. this kid was nothing. you know, my instinct was to turn to him and say, you're barking up the wrong tree. my people were too poor to have slaves. i live in this city and contribute to the tax base which helps keep the city afloat; i am not a white suburbanite draining city resources on my way home to my two acres. but i managed to restrain myself. maybe i have gotten a little urban-smart.
i was said to miss fu manchu man, though. he often would get on the 22 on my way home, and he loved to talk about the browns and what the chinese restaurants in town leave in their dumpsters. once, he got on, sat down in the middle seat on the back row, then got back up and announced at the top of his lungs, TRUTH! JUSTICE! AND THE AMERICAN WAY! and then he sat down. really, riding the bus doesn't get any better than that.
when i first started my current job, i took the bus almost every day, and through it started to get to know my now very good friend cynthia. then justin changed to his current schedule, where he works from 1:30 to 9:30, and i started going in at 10 instead of 8, so we could at least see each other a little during the week, and it wasn't so fun to ride the bus without cynthia, and i started riding only once or twice a week.
last spring, before i got pregnant, i had the first personally bad experience i ever had on public transportation; actually, it happened as i got off the bus. as one of my fellow riders got off ahead of me, he paused on the sidewalk. when i got off, my bag ever-so-slightly brushed against his bag, and as i walked away, i turned my head back and said, oh! excuse me.
this man said, excuse me? excuse me? what the fuck? who do you think you're talking to bitch?
i was stunned (not so urban after all, huh), and i looked around and said, were you talking to me?
oh, yes, he was talking to me. another woman from the bus took my arm and shook me out of my shock and said, just walk away from him. so i turned and walked down a block and over two in public square to catch the 22 the last leg home. but this man followed me for those three blocks, screaming obscenities at me the whole way, threatening me and pretty much all of my loved ones. two dumb-looking suburban kids, probably thinking they were pretty cool to be hanging out downtown, had the misfortune to cross my path and invite my harrasser's wrath on them, for their failure to fight him over their white sister.
it was the first time i ever felt afraid in my adopted hometown, and i don't care to experience that feeling again. just as i reached the bus stop, the 22 magically pulled up (which it never, ever does), and i jumped on and didn't start breathing until i realized he hadn't followed me on to the bus.
i didn't ride the bus again for a week. i recognized the man as someone who rode the same route and schedule i did with some regularity, and i was terrified. but a week later something or other came up where justin had to have the care, and i got back on the bus. justin waited until i got on the 77f without him, but at the last stop before we left downtown, my pal jumped on the bus.
this guy was not the regular rider headed to rehab at the VA. he always wore impeccable suits, and his hair was always carefully styled, and i knew from what i overheard on the bus that he was some kind of financial advisor - not your regular looney. he sat down right in front of me, and i just kept my head down in my book as though i noticed nothing, although my heart was racing. eventually he engaged the older man next to him in polite conversation. the other man rides to the VA every day, rain or shine, and he was happy for the attention. as we got close to my buddy's stop, the older man said, now what is your name again. ha! he mumbled something, and the old man said, what was that? and he said, joe. the older man, god bless him, said, and your last name? he hestitated and then said, you know, like the laundry detergent. the older man, who was now my hero, said, what detergent? and he mumbled, downey. the older man repeated it like a mantra, joe downey, joe downey. the balance of power had shifted.
from that point on, i was no longer afraid to run into him, but i haven't seen him since. once i got pregnant, i could count on my hands the times i rode the bus, because i was so tired the entire time, and taking the bus adds a couple of hours to my commute. but today i got welcome back with a bang, so to speak. after i got off the 77f and was waiting in public square for the 22, a guy who was passing the time reciting rap lyrics sauntered over to just over my right shoulder and recited the part about all of the whiteys getting taken out, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. i looked the other way and yawned. i survived joe downey. this kid was nothing. you know, my instinct was to turn to him and say, you're barking up the wrong tree. my people were too poor to have slaves. i live in this city and contribute to the tax base which helps keep the city afloat; i am not a white suburbanite draining city resources on my way home to my two acres. but i managed to restrain myself. maybe i have gotten a little urban-smart.
i was said to miss fu manchu man, though. he often would get on the 22 on my way home, and he loved to talk about the browns and what the chinese restaurants in town leave in their dumpsters. once, he got on, sat down in the middle seat on the back row, then got back up and announced at the top of his lungs, TRUTH! JUSTICE! AND THE AMERICAN WAY! and then he sat down. really, riding the bus doesn't get any better than that.
posted by laura at 11:22 PM
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