The Oral History of Bus People
For the last few days I've been carless, as the Pilgrim Mobile has been in the garage getting his battery replaced. However, since I play chauffeur to pretty much everyone I know, I knew I'd have to resort to public transportation when it was time to go pick him up. So this afternoon I headed into downtown to wait for the local bus, and pulled myself up a park bench, and started talking to people. It's in small moments like these that you realize everyone has a story, no matter how seemingly insignificant. I'd thought I'd share some of those with you now.
LOUIS
For a pale, unassuming guy, the man sitting next to me was a wealth of personality. He was probably in his early 40s, tall, gangly, with a dirty baseball cap and black hair sticking out at odd angles. Louis, as I came to find out, was from South America - "Columbia," he replied through a crooked, yet glowing smile when asked. I was surprised; considering his accent sounded exactly like Pedro Martinez's, I would have guessed the Islands or Latin America.
After he grilled me on why I didn't become a doctor rather than a writer ("It's good money, eh?") I found out that he came to the United States nine years ago, hoping to get an education. Although he regrets that he didn't get a college degree, he still "got more education than Columbia." He then lived in New York for 6 years, working. He really liked New York. "It is fun, you know? So many clubs and people, and. . .here is boring," he said.
Amen, brother.
"But here is nice," he added. "Hanover. Quiet. More money working here, so, you know. I think I'll stay. Maybe live up near here someday."
When he found out I was from Boston, he was really excited. "I've been Boston! So nice - there was this one, a main street, with clubs, all in a line! You been there?"
probably.
"Good drinks too, but I no drink!" He was very insistent that he'd quit drinking for over a year. The reason he was taking the bus, apparently, is that his license had been suspended. "The second time!" he said. "It is stupid - I wasn't even the guy who drink drive!" I wasn't a hundred percent sure if he meant to claim that he was soberly driving a bunch of drunk people, or that he was drunk but not the one driving. Either way, he didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it much. "I hate the bus, but it's good, I think. No drinking and the driving. That very bad."
I nodded gravely.
"So you gonna write kids' books or what?" he asked. No, I said. Probably journalism. Maybe creative writing on the side. "Journalist! You have to be very smart to be that - eh? To be on TV? You are gonna read the news on TV, right?" Maybe, I said. That would be fun, but I'd write for a paper too. Maybe a magazine. "Oh. But TV, man - I really like that channel, channel 3. You should read there. They nice, explain things well." That's important, I said. I usually have my favorite news station too. "Yes, yes. Some boring, but channel 3 is interesting. Even for Colombians. The guy, he waves around, points. It's great. You should do it like that guy."
I promised if I ever got to read the news, I'd try to make it interesting. Even for Colombians.
TRAVIS
At that point, Louis introduced me to his buddy, Travis (although curiously he had to ask Travis what his name was first). Travis looked much younger, probably late 20s, well dressed with curly blonde hair, dark sunglasses, and an arm slung lazily over the back of the bench. Basically all-American looking, although certainly not from Dartmouth. After leaning over to shake my hand, he took a long drag on his cigarette. Travis was much quieter, more laid-back, although he seemed amused by everything Louis had to say. They'd been working together, I gathered. "Finally off - time to get drink!" Louis said. "You quit drinking," Travis reminded him. "Oh, right," Louis responded, crestfallen. "What to do? Oh well."
MILLY
Probably in her 40s, with brown curly hair and large glasses, Milly has, until now, been standing with her back to the conversation, her attention completely focused on the spot where the bus would soon be emerging. Overweight with an eclectic mix of clothes and shopping bags, she turns towards us with the kind eyes, yet confused look of the mentally disabled. "You takin' bus?" she asked excitedly. Sure were, I said. She stuck her hand out and I took it. "I'm Milly," she said decisively. "Been taking this bus 18 years." That's a long time, I said. "Yup, it should be commin' in a minute - at exactly 2:47." A glance at the schedule would have told anyone she was right. With that, she turned back to her lookout.
Travis took another drag on his cigarette. "You smoke?" Louis asked. I said no. "Good!" he said. "I smoked. Quit 15 years ago. Is bad habit." "And expensive," I said. "Yes! So much money!" Louis exclaimed. "When I stopped smoking, I went out, spent money on flowers for my girlfriend. You ever smoke?" No again, I said. "So good," Louis said, shaking his head. "Is no good to kiss after a girl's been smoking." I laughed, agreeing. "Yeah, I can't date smokers," I said. At that, Louis turned to Travis, who was taking another drag on his cigarette. "Hey man," Louis said, "Do you smoke?"
We all had to have a good laugh at that one. Even Milly.
"Guess I'm off the available list," Travis joked. I suppose so, I replied. Then Milly jumped. "The bus! This is the one, right here, get on!"
She herded us over. We got on.
It was 2:47.
posted by Jess @ 10:43 PM
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