I had to run for the bus. It was an articulated bus. I rapped on the door, out of breath. It opened , the bus driver was talking, nearly yelling at a passenger. I sat in the front 2/5 of the long centipede. I know this bus driver from my new commute. I like the way he describes the upcoming stops. He reports a cultural context to his passengers, if feels very old school. I consider myself lucky while he is driving.
“Hey man, why don’t you step outside for some fresh air? Don’t be falling asleep.”
“They’ll come on the bus and take you out. And it’s a three-day weekend–you won’t see Judge till Tuesday.”
My lungs burned and my heart pounded, I gathered myself, it was 8:57 AM, and a passenger was wavering back and forth from the motion of the bus. He was falling asleep.
Don’t fall asleep. You don’t wasn’t to fall asleep on the bus. They’ll come on and get you. Anyone falling asleep, I got to report. I see you there, man. Go on–make it easy on yourself, get off the bus. Go on, get off the bus and get a bit of fresh air. You need some fresh air. Make it easy on all of us.They will come onto the bus and reach behind your ear and PINCH YOU HARD, and they are hoping you wake up swinging, because then you are assaulting an officer. I’ve seen it! And then you assault an officer and they gotcha! They run your record and you go to jail. You don’t want to go to jail man! It’s a three-day weekend! You won’t see a judge till Tuesday–IF YOUR LUCKY!!! You’ll spend the weekend in jail. You don’t want that!
All the while, the bus driver is driving and he is letting people on the bus and he is letting people off the bus. He says a nice hello to the people, and some people thank him when they get off. But this morning is different on the bus. There is a man who can’t stay awake. And that is a problem for the bus driver. If he gets to the end of the line, and this guy is out cold! in the bus, then the bus driver is stuck with him. He has to take him home and care for him. It’s like some sort of old transmission of familial bonds that Seattle never took off the books. There is strong magic in this transmission. But the bus driver does not want this new son. He pleads with him to get off the bus, or the police will come.
Other passengers are listening. I can’t stand it anymore. I got out of my seat to try another angle.
“Come on man, get off the bus”, I shook him. I took a stranger, a large man on the arm, and shook him. He had a black velour sweatshirt on with a black tee shirt underneath. Then I grabbed his knee. And I shook it. “Do you like coffee? Get off the bus and get coffee. You don’t want the police. It won’t be nice.” I was trying to reason with him. I was hoping to access his cerebral cortex.
The bus driver and I were quiet for a moment. The passengers eyes finally rolled back far into his head. He was gone. Black velvet sweat pants with little pockets on the sides which couldn’t even contain his ID. Old Reebok shoes, his feet bursting out of them. Gigantic lips agape as he took his first few peaceful breaths of slumber. He slumped over, and began to snore.
“DUDE”, I said. “Don’t go to sleep! The police are going to get you! Get off the bus!” I yelled at him from across the aisle.
He was out cold. His eye balls began to track back and forth. I love watching that. I watch that with my kids, my wife, my dog. And now a stranger sitting across from me on a warm, steamy bus zigzagging its way through Seattle. I watch him knowing he will be rudely awoken any minute.
Was he dreaming of his mother? Holding him. Caring for him. He is a little baby and the world is safe and warm. The world is such a wonderful place. His momma. Her caress. Her warm breath and her bosom. Soft lips on his cheek. Bouncing. He loves when she bounces him like that.
But here he was now. All in black. With shoes that don’t fit well and it was raining outside. Not a lot, but enough. Who would take care of him outside? The bus was warm and soothed him slowly to sleep. They were going to touch him. Hard. To wake him up and then they were going to touch him badly to get him off the bus. And if he swung then they would take him to jail.
It was my stop.
“Thanks for helping”, the bus driver said. “He’s going to have a rude awakening. I’ve seen it. But what are you going to do? You got to do the right thing, and if you don’t do the right thing then you got to pay for it. He’s going to pay for it. He should have gotten off the bus.”
My wife at home, caring for our children.
The man asleep on the bus.
Me on my way to work.
Them on the way to the places that they are going.
The police on the way to where they are going.
To the man asleep on the bus.
