Meet Chris Wilcox

  • Writings
  • Media
  • Quips
  • Store
  • About Chris
  • Contact

Riding the Bus, part 1

02.03.2019 by Chris Wilcox //

In a big city where streets are congested, parking is scarce, and public transit is commonplace, riding the bus doesn’t mean much. It means you needed to get somewhere. Everyone and her neighbor rides the bus, trolley, subway, etc.

At least, that’s the way it is in movies. I don’t know. Truth be told, I don’t spend much time in big cities.

Out here in the suburbs, announcing that you came by bus causes people to take two steps back and eye you like a syringe in a sandbox.

Out here in the suburbs, announcing that you came by bus causes people to take two steps back and eye you like a syringe in a sandbox. Share on X

“Oh, the bus, you say? That’s nice. Don’t touch anything, Lillian. Honey, start the car!”

Talk of schedules and fares will earn you pitying looks or that sudden gush of over-the-top, unwarranted niceness that says “I’m going to be really extra sweet to you because I can afford it, and there but for the grace of God go I.”

Unless some quirk of your psychological constitution requires a constant inflow of judgment or sympathy, you learn not to mention it.

In fairness, most of the people I encounter on the bus around here are relatively down on their luck. There’s lots of frugal widowhood and a good bit of disability. Metal carts bearing single bags of discount groceries crowd the front aisle. Unusual voices abound. Some talk to themselves, while others debate which store has the best deal on used VHS movies. (It is 2019.)

Should a couple enter, they will have just eaten fast food, he will be wearing sweatpants, and they will be arguing about something. Then they’ll make up and offer an over-the-top display of public affection. They’ll go back to arguing. They’ll make up again. This cycle will repeat, ad nauseam, until they leave. She’ll step out first, followed by his sweatpants. Chivalry is not, after all, dead.

Preoccupied by survival, people are slow to adapt. A reloadable plastic transit card system was implemented more than a year ago. The card is free, but you have to go to the trouble of getting it at a public counter downtown and the “benefit” it offers is that you have to load your fare 48 hours ahead of time for it to be ready when you ride. I’m the only person I’ve ever seen use one.

People pay with fists of change or scraps of paper they don’t think to look for until after they’ve boarded and everyone is waiting. No one complains. We’re riding the bus, discussing what’s good on VHS. Delay is our life’s structure.

We have all the time in the world.

[to be continued?]

Enjoy this? Tell someone about it.

  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
  • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
  • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email

Categories // Prose Tags // Humorous

Suggested Kindnesses

  1. Support Chris by buying 31 Down or the sit-down stand-up comedy downloads.
  2. If you enjoyed this post, pass it along to a friend or mention it on social media.
  3. Be nice to animals.
Something to say about this? Public comments (that may appear on the site, subject to the rules of grammar and good taste) will be open for one week after the posting of each new thing. Or you can always send an email.

Latest Updates

Better late than never

May 16, 2022

Leaving only confusion in its wake

May 1, 2022

Fancy names for common things

March 20, 2022

Types of Stuff

Ephemera Listen Prose Saturdays Songs Updates

Copyright © 2014 - 2022 by Chris M. Wilcox · All Rights Reserved