Happy Birthday Deke!

My pen name and the blog are now four years old. I guess that makes me the youngest smartassed anonymous bus driver in town. Or maybe just an aging hippie who doesn't know when to shut up. Either way, it's been an interesting run, and I thank you all for continuing to read. In fact, more people read my words than listen to me speak, so maybe I'll just shut up and write some more.

Hummin' along in the seat, sometimes I wonder what I'll write about next. There's always something that happens which could spur a post idea. Often times, I forget what it was when I sit here to write. As I meet more drivers, they will tell me stories of their own which might inspire me or just piss me off. Usually, that's because management is great at finding new ways to mess with us. But hey, I've had quite a run of bitchy posts, and I'm tired of being angry. Imagine Don Rickles on uppers, without his humor. Not a pretty sight when I get pumped up.

Then there are things I want to write about, but figure I just shouldn't. Might offend someone. But you know, some people don't think twice about offending US, so screw it. People are so damned touchy these days. You can't pick on anyone in a fun-hearted but wicked way lately, or their panties get twisted. Others get so huffy their sphincters tighten so much when they fart it's like compressed air trying to penetrate a footlong pin prick in a titanium wall. Even when it's not even registering in the deepest recesses of our minds, we're accused of racism, sexism or who-knows-what-else 'ism if we lay down the law to code-breaking riders.

People can be such downers. It would be so peaceful if I could just drive the beast without picking anyone up. Imagine the looks on their faces when I'd whiz by and just wave! Hey, at least I'd be on schedule.

It would also amuse me if my passengers would all open the windows and photograph rude motorists who zip past across double yellow lines or against my flashing Yield light. That way, I could just innocently shrug when they blast by honking their annoying little testosterone-lacking horns.

We're currently in the midst of contract negotiations with the transit agency again. One of our main sticking points is our Service Improvement Program (SIP). You'd be amazed by the amount of blatantly-false complaints called in about us on a regular basis. Oh, how I'd love to have a phone number WE could call to complain about impatient and oblivious boneheads in traffic. It would also be cool to have access to the camera footage on our buses to use against them when they call in false complaints.

"Oh," the Customer Service Rep would say to a caller, "the driver of Bus 3599 flipped you off after cutting you off in traffic? Hmm... let me just pull up that tape. Okay now, it looks like you were paying attention to your phone rather than the road and the driver's professionalism saved your sorry ass. And there's no flipoff from the driver. Thanks for calling, but I'll be sending this footage to the local police department and you should expect some citations in the mail next week."

There I go, dreaming again. Next time you drive by a smiling bus driver, there's no telling what he's thinking about. Especially this one.