And Another One Rides the Bus
A slice of life for a fare price
A number of years ago I climbed aboard Frederick’s Transit buses and became part of a world that was equally captivating whether as a silent observer of human nature, or whether I jumped into conversations that sometimes became so involved that I was tempted to forego my stop.
I started riding the bus when The Frederick News-Post, my former employer, moved from downtown to the edge of the city. Since it had been years since I was a reporter, I no longer needed a car to get to assignments. As an editor, however, I still wanted to connect to what was happening in the community. Running into people who had news tips and gossip while walking down the street had been replaced with being plopped in the middle of a field bordered by interstate highways. Few scoops there for sure.
I remember that within weeks of joining the bus crowd my life changed in subtle ways. First, I no longer had the luxury of dawdling in the morning over a second cup of coffee or maybe throwing in a load of laundry. The bus was coming and I needed to be standing and ready at the end of my block.
Secondly, I noticed that running to catch the bus when I lost track of time was making me more physically fit. I could sprint without becoming doubled over and struggling to breath — even with a purse, lunch bag and satchel weighing me down. The bus stop at the other end of my commute was a half-mile walk to the office and was a fitness routine I never had to think twice about.
Best of all, my big reason for taking the bus — interaction with people — hit the mother lode whether it was Isaac, the driver who calls the passengers his “pilgrims” and benevolently looks out for them, or the various riders who grew to be my bus buddies. There was “Downer Dave,” who groused about everything from the weather to the economy, to Carlos, a guy who worked in two fast food restaurants and was usually asleep when I climbed aboard, but once he awoke was good for a chat in broken English.
The bus is truly a big ole chunk of humanity, a sideshow of life with admission being the $1.50 you plunk into the fare box.
The glass and metal fare box itself is a wealth of little tales. I’ve witnessed the kindness of strangers played out numerous times when someone short of change was given a nickel or a dime, or even the entire fare. On the flip side, one driver told me about the cheeky characters who rip a bill in half, fold it and stuff it through the slot to get double mileage.
The bus is often filled with mothers and their babies, the women often performing some serious juggling with grocery bags and collapsed strollers. If a child becomes fussy, a person sitting across the aisle is likely to pull out a set of keys to jangle as a distraction, or make goofy faces. Older kids and their loud music on I-pods are quieted by dirty looks from passengers or a shout from the one behind the wheel.
Older people are also regulars in the seats, whether they’re taking the bus to Walmart, running across town to visit grandchildren, or simply riding for the sake of riding.
Hotel maids and fast food workers sit next to riders heading to an office or doctor’s appointment. Many become the people you see everyday and soon you’re sharing stories about friends and families and maybe current affairs. These days it’s also easy to get started on politics after first testing the waters. But all this friendliness aside, the point at becoming a true bus buddy arrives when you haven’t ridden for a while and people immediately want to know where you’ve been.
With the creation of Frederick Extra I will again have a home for my ramblings about life on the bus. I hope you’ll come along for the ride.
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