The people on the bus go CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY all through the town.
Given that I am unemployed and spend most of my time these days looking at boring job postings and cooking food, I believe I can safely say that the bus is one of the most interesting things in my life right now. Today, this was more true than usual. Unfortunately.
Today I am cooking Raph's and my dinner. This dinner will include pie, and yet last night after fetching all the ingredients for this I realized I had forgotten one thing: a pie plate. Well, goddamn. So this morning I set out for my favorite thrift store (Thrift Town) with the goal of buying a pie plate and maybe a big soup pot and a cookie sheet as well. The trip did not get off to a good start. The bus was very slow to come, and of course when it finally did show it was crowded with all the people who had been waiting as long as I had at earlier stops. I got on anyway, since there was no other bus in sight, and I wove my way into the crowd of standees and found a place to hold on where I had to touch as few strangers as possible.
Over the next few blocks more and more people got on the bus. Most of them jostled past me on their way in. Then a man a few seats behind me started yelling.
"Move your leg!" he said. "Come on, lady, you're blocking everything up. Move your leg so people can get by!" People looked around at him to see what was up. I could not spot the offending leg or otherwise figure out which of many ladies on the bus he was talking to. Now, usually on the busses here if somebody starts yelling at someone else other people will join in, especially if they agree with the yeller (they usually do not jump to the aid of the yellee unless s/he is already yelling back). The fact that that section of the bus was quite quiet leads me to think the guy may have been in the wrong to yell at the lady. However, when she did not respond to him he took it to the next level by tattling to the bus driver.
"Driver!" he shouted, "Make this lady move her leg. She's getting in everybody's way!"
"Ma'am, could you please make room," the driver called back, without looking. Nothing happened in the area behind me, except that a guy in a seat one row beyond the yeller called out, "Maybe you should be a gentleman and offer her a seat. The seats are for the elderly and disabled."
This proved to be a grave tactical error. Because, you see, the yeller was of the opinion that he deserved his seat, and he took offense at this comment.
"For the elderly and disabled?" he hollered. "I'm disabled! I'm disabled and mentally retarded and handicapped! Driver, did you hear? I'm disabled and mentally retarded and handicapped! And I'm blind, too--can't see a thing! I'm disabled and handicapped and... mentally retarded and..." and so on. Now, this dude was not blind. He was not visibly disabled in any way, and given the circumstances I am not inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was also not retarded. He was, however, belligerent and CRAZY. I remember thinking it was funny, as the man continued to repeat himself, first loudly and then fading into a mad mutter as people ignored him, that this guy had seemed quite normal at first, even when he was starting to yell (people yell at each other on the bus all the time... yes, really). A stealth belligerent crazy person, I thought. How novel. Most of the belligerent crazy people in this city are belligerent and crazy right off the bat.
I was not the only one to deduce from this outburst that the dude was not normal. The bus driver caught on, too, and pointed out to this guy that if he didn't like the current arrangement he could always catch the next bus, and he encouraged him to do so. This took the muttering down a notch in volume, but it kept on going and now included phrases on the theme of "Take the next bus? I can take the next bus, I can take this bus. I can take any bus I want!"
Very shortly after the tirade on disabiliy, the guy who had suggested that the yeller yield his seat (and maintained his position on the topic for a bit even as the guy listed his undefined problems, repeating "Be a gentleman!") got off the bus. The yeller glowered after him and muttered that he was a "white-ass guy, with a white-ass woman." From then on, the muttering took on a racial tone, which just plain annoyed me, because 1) telling off an annoying crazy person on the bus is not a racial incident, and 2) I'm not sure the proponent of gentility was even white. I never got a great look at him, but I had assumed he wasn't. At any rate, he was not a member of the oppressive white American bourgeoisie--he spoke with a heavy accent and was not particularly well-dressed.
Now, all of this has taken ages to type out, but it actually happened over the course of just a few torturous stops. Listening to the yeller muttering away, I was really tempted to get off the bus and just walk, but it was just too far from there to the store, so I stuck it out. After a while he really did subside, anyway, so I was feeling okay about the rest of my crowded ride. We had only gone a few more blocks, however, when another person behind me started yelling.
"Oh, great!" he said, or something like that. I didn't catch all the rest of what he said, but he definitely demanded, "Is that dirty?" in a really disdainful voice. I looked back and saw that he was yelling at a rather haggard-looking woman who was fumbling with a bunch of stuff and either trying to settle into or vacate a seat. While the lady didn't seem to be in peak form, I couldn't see what about her or her posessions had made the man so upset (i.e., loud). We were stopped at 24th Street, where the BART runs, so a lot of people were moving onto and off of the bus. I moved back a bit to let the new people on, and as I did the haggard woman rose from her seat and dropped something.
A capped hypodermic needle fell onto the empty seat. It lay there for a second, looking extremely exposed and obvious in the middle of the seat, before the haggared woman gathered it up and the man started yelling at her again.
The back doors of the bus, right next to me, were still open. We were at 24th Street, still many blocks away from where I was going, but what can I say? Suddenly a walk sounded damn good. I scurried down the steps and onto the pavement and the bus rolled away, irate man and highly-questionable lady still aboard.
I ended up standing outside a pungent fish shop waiting for the next bus rather than walking the rest of the way. As the stink of fish wafted by, I wondered what was up with the woman with the needle. Of course, there's the easy answer that OH SHE WAS ON DRUGS, but who the hell takes that stuff on the bus and lets it tumble around in public? The needle looked a lot like the ones we used to use to give my cat Scampi insulin shots, so maybe she was diabetic? And maybe the needles for insulin and the needles for heroin look the same. I do not know. What I do know is that I saw a beautiful little red moped on craigslist for about six hundred dollars, and I let it go because I am broke. The more I ride busses full of rude, crazed, smelly and/or aggressive people, though, the more I regret not taking out loans to buy that motorbike.
P.S.--I got to Thrift Town just fine, and had a very successful trip. Ironically, though, I almost forgot to buy a pie plate, and once I remembered it I spent ten minutes looking for one in their large kitchen section and wondering if it was possible they had no pie pans at all before I found the single pie pan in the place. I got it in the end, though. Mission accomplished.
Today I am cooking Raph's and my dinner. This dinner will include pie, and yet last night after fetching all the ingredients for this I realized I had forgotten one thing: a pie plate. Well, goddamn. So this morning I set out for my favorite thrift store (Thrift Town) with the goal of buying a pie plate and maybe a big soup pot and a cookie sheet as well. The trip did not get off to a good start. The bus was very slow to come, and of course when it finally did show it was crowded with all the people who had been waiting as long as I had at earlier stops. I got on anyway, since there was no other bus in sight, and I wove my way into the crowd of standees and found a place to hold on where I had to touch as few strangers as possible.
Over the next few blocks more and more people got on the bus. Most of them jostled past me on their way in. Then a man a few seats behind me started yelling.
"Move your leg!" he said. "Come on, lady, you're blocking everything up. Move your leg so people can get by!" People looked around at him to see what was up. I could not spot the offending leg or otherwise figure out which of many ladies on the bus he was talking to. Now, usually on the busses here if somebody starts yelling at someone else other people will join in, especially if they agree with the yeller (they usually do not jump to the aid of the yellee unless s/he is already yelling back). The fact that that section of the bus was quite quiet leads me to think the guy may have been in the wrong to yell at the lady. However, when she did not respond to him he took it to the next level by tattling to the bus driver.
"Driver!" he shouted, "Make this lady move her leg. She's getting in everybody's way!"
"Ma'am, could you please make room," the driver called back, without looking. Nothing happened in the area behind me, except that a guy in a seat one row beyond the yeller called out, "Maybe you should be a gentleman and offer her a seat. The seats are for the elderly and disabled."
This proved to be a grave tactical error. Because, you see, the yeller was of the opinion that he deserved his seat, and he took offense at this comment.
"For the elderly and disabled?" he hollered. "I'm disabled! I'm disabled and mentally retarded and handicapped! Driver, did you hear? I'm disabled and mentally retarded and handicapped! And I'm blind, too--can't see a thing! I'm disabled and handicapped and... mentally retarded and..." and so on. Now, this dude was not blind. He was not visibly disabled in any way, and given the circumstances I am not inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was also not retarded. He was, however, belligerent and CRAZY. I remember thinking it was funny, as the man continued to repeat himself, first loudly and then fading into a mad mutter as people ignored him, that this guy had seemed quite normal at first, even when he was starting to yell (people yell at each other on the bus all the time... yes, really). A stealth belligerent crazy person, I thought. How novel. Most of the belligerent crazy people in this city are belligerent and crazy right off the bat.
I was not the only one to deduce from this outburst that the dude was not normal. The bus driver caught on, too, and pointed out to this guy that if he didn't like the current arrangement he could always catch the next bus, and he encouraged him to do so. This took the muttering down a notch in volume, but it kept on going and now included phrases on the theme of "Take the next bus? I can take the next bus, I can take this bus. I can take any bus I want!"
Very shortly after the tirade on disabiliy, the guy who had suggested that the yeller yield his seat (and maintained his position on the topic for a bit even as the guy listed his undefined problems, repeating "Be a gentleman!") got off the bus. The yeller glowered after him and muttered that he was a "white-ass guy, with a white-ass woman." From then on, the muttering took on a racial tone, which just plain annoyed me, because 1) telling off an annoying crazy person on the bus is not a racial incident, and 2) I'm not sure the proponent of gentility was even white. I never got a great look at him, but I had assumed he wasn't. At any rate, he was not a member of the oppressive white American bourgeoisie--he spoke with a heavy accent and was not particularly well-dressed.
Now, all of this has taken ages to type out, but it actually happened over the course of just a few torturous stops. Listening to the yeller muttering away, I was really tempted to get off the bus and just walk, but it was just too far from there to the store, so I stuck it out. After a while he really did subside, anyway, so I was feeling okay about the rest of my crowded ride. We had only gone a few more blocks, however, when another person behind me started yelling.
"Oh, great!" he said, or something like that. I didn't catch all the rest of what he said, but he definitely demanded, "Is that dirty?" in a really disdainful voice. I looked back and saw that he was yelling at a rather haggard-looking woman who was fumbling with a bunch of stuff and either trying to settle into or vacate a seat. While the lady didn't seem to be in peak form, I couldn't see what about her or her posessions had made the man so upset (i.e., loud). We were stopped at 24th Street, where the BART runs, so a lot of people were moving onto and off of the bus. I moved back a bit to let the new people on, and as I did the haggard woman rose from her seat and dropped something.
A capped hypodermic needle fell onto the empty seat. It lay there for a second, looking extremely exposed and obvious in the middle of the seat, before the haggared woman gathered it up and the man started yelling at her again.
The back doors of the bus, right next to me, were still open. We were at 24th Street, still many blocks away from where I was going, but what can I say? Suddenly a walk sounded damn good. I scurried down the steps and onto the pavement and the bus rolled away, irate man and highly-questionable lady still aboard.
I ended up standing outside a pungent fish shop waiting for the next bus rather than walking the rest of the way. As the stink of fish wafted by, I wondered what was up with the woman with the needle. Of course, there's the easy answer that OH SHE WAS ON DRUGS, but who the hell takes that stuff on the bus and lets it tumble around in public? The needle looked a lot like the ones we used to use to give my cat Scampi insulin shots, so maybe she was diabetic? And maybe the needles for insulin and the needles for heroin look the same. I do not know. What I do know is that I saw a beautiful little red moped on craigslist for about six hundred dollars, and I let it go because I am broke. The more I ride busses full of rude, crazed, smelly and/or aggressive people, though, the more I regret not taking out loans to buy that motorbike.
P.S.--I got to Thrift Town just fine, and had a very successful trip. Ironically, though, I almost forgot to buy a pie plate, and once I remembered it I spent ten minutes looking for one in their large kitchen section and wondering if it was possible they had no pie pans at all before I found the single pie pan in the place. I got it in the end, though. Mission accomplished.