Thursday, September 09, 2004

Two stories in one day! Like killing two birds with one stone! Like wearing two contacts in one eye! Like sticking two french fries into one nostril! Like...


After orienation last week, I waited at the bus stop. The bus was already there, so we waited for the bus driver to finsh his coffee, empty his bladder, whatever. There are two kinds of Vancouver buses, the ones with stairs where you step down and use your weight to open the door (heavier is better, in this case, and this case alone); and wheelchair friendly ones where you exit by gently pushing the bars on the doors (how colds are spread). This particular bus was one of the wheelchair friendly buses. I've always been curious as to how bus drivers enter the bus, because I've never seen a door. Maybe they stick their keys in a conspicuous place and push a magical button. Who knows.

Walking under the sun all day and not having enough water to drink, I was more than a little out if that day and didn't take the incredible opportunity to observe the bus driver entering the bus. However, I didn't need to. The bus driver walked to the back door (where people [are supposed to] exit), and kicked it. The door responded to the less than gentle stimulus and opened. He walked in, settled down, and opened the front door for passengers to aboard. The way he kicked open the door was so no-nonsense, so matter-of-fact. I walked on the bus, laughing, and asked the bus driver if that's how all bus drivers get in, by kicking the door. He started laughing too, and said no, he just does it cause it's easy. Don't try it with the coach buses, he said.


At half past ten that evening, I was on the bus going home. I stared outside at the passing houses and the lit street, focusing on not drifting asleep. From experience, simultaneously trying to sleep and trying not to is one of the most painful experiences I have ever experienced. Slightly dozing off while keeping your head straight then pulling yourself out of the sleep is so nauseating, so dizzying. I think that's how they killed prisoners in Japan a long time ago. So I kept my eyes wide open, staring at the outside whirl of lights and cars and catching glimpses of the cute boy next to me's reflection on the bus window.

When the cute boy left I turned to look at the side he was sitting on, and saw a 'Poetry in Transit' poem. I thought it was kind of cool so I took out my planner and copied it down. When I looked up, I was many blocks passed my stop.

I don't think I've ever missed my stop. I ride buses so often that I can tell where I am located by the frequency of stops and the turns and the speed. I can't believe I missed my stop because of a poem. It wasn't that cool. Do you lovely readers want to know what that poem was?

By Heidi Greco -

I will ride my red motorcycle
into your heart
crash land my feelings
all over your doorstep
fling scented pink petals
across your front lawn
kiss you like pancakes
for breakfast

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