Bus of Doom

Or mabye the title would be better put as "Bus Rider of Doom".

My limited experence with the Capital Metro buses, Austin's fairly superb public bus system, have been interesting. Austin has a great bus system yes, but it also has a lot of really weird people that ride on that bus system, making any trip on the bus a pretty interesting one.

Of course, there was the time the bus freakin broke down. It was the route 30 bus that runs from Downtown to the Barton Creek Mall. I decided to take it to the Zilker Park area while I had new tires put on my car (ironically, the cost was identical to that of the ipod that I don't own). I stood with a bunch of people who were late for work, and waited for another one. Fortunately I didn't have to work until 7. An interesting thing about the breakdown is that it was one of the newest buses.

Then there's tonight, which features the continuance of my car’s apparently chronic case of breaking down, always a completely different problem than the one that had been fixed six weeks earlier. I left it at work, hoping that the skills of a car-genius known as "Matt" will magically heal it in the next few days, and walked to the nearest bus stop (about a mile and a half). I took that to Guadalupe so I could get on the "1" bus that goes straight to my apartment. I don't mind riding the bus, I'm not really afraid of "weird" people. However, things on the bus got a little too weird. After stopping at 6th and Congress the bus was near seating capacity, a couple of people were standing. I sat, quietly and peacefully reading the paper when I heard the bus driver, a thirty-something African-American woman (who, by the skilled administrative tone in her voice, has certainly done some parenting in her life) telling a couple of riders to settle down. I looked across the aisle to see two older men, one far older, both apparently either drunk or needing to be, shouting at each other. Apparently some argument between the two was spilling into a shouting match…essentially a verbal cockfight. One guy emphatically stating that he was a Vietnam veteran, while the other obviously older guy shouting that he was a Korean War Veteran (since it happened earlier on America’s timeline, I guess it means he’s better or something)…It was sad but I, and almost everyone else, were getting a little uneasy, the Hispanic guy next to them especially so. I had already had a long day so I stepped off the bus, and then back on when I saw that one of the guys had gotten off the bus. The older guy told the bus driver that it wasn’t his fault, saying “he started it”, in the same way that I did to my mom when I was six, and pointing at the younger vet. The younger vet then dated himself, and his logic, by blaming it on the “Mexican” guy. I guess that makes sense if you’re an apparent alcoholic and grew up in the 50’s.

The long and the short of the story is that they were separated, and the rest of the ride home was noticeably quiet. It was a really interesting thing to observe. It’s got me thinking a great deal about life, bitterness, and the human condition. I guess I should get used to this sort of think if I’m going to Los Angeles this summer.

- Jordan