Kicking the Can Around

Deke's Note: I'm feeling great tonight. This blog registered its 280,000th hit this week, I had a  commendation from a situation I was sure would net me a complaint, and a passenger I had never met recognized me as Deke N. Blue. It was a week which saw Mercury in retrograde, whatever the hell that means, except for a slew of miscreants giving me a hard time. It would be an average week for a bus operator, but these things happen to all of us, not just to this writer who drives a bus for a living...

Hello world. I'm back, this time with a lighter heart. Not the usual harsh critic of management but rather your fellow road warrior, tweaker of tires (pardon the pun), brother at the keyboard. It's been a rough week. Anyone who says our job is "easy" should have rolled with me this week. They would have marveled at the insults and hardships we constantly face. Instead, I'm left alone to describe it for you. 

First, let me explain our version of "tired" for you, in the context of a transit operator. Unlike most jobs, ours encompasses every aspect of our lives. How we sleep, eat or use our time off is dictated by the job we do. From the first moment we awaken we are conditioned to perform. We eat breakfast, take care to ensure we are clean and presentable. Our lunch is packed and ready when we walk out the door at the precise moment necessary to arrive at the garage in time to catch the proper bus or train to our relief point. As we leave home, we're looking forward to the next 12 hours of our lives. It is up to us how each day on the job plays out. We can either be "up" for what lies ahead, or dreading it. It's mixed bag, and we have to be prepared for whatever rolls toward us. Management is only concerned with our being on time. Whether we ever come home again to our loved ones is of no real concern to the spreadsheet goons who rule over those who do the work of transit.

(I'm so beat now after 52+ hours this week I can't even think straight, let alone write coherently. I'll finish this later. Off to bed I go.)

* * * * *

Back now. It's funny that as I attempted to describe how tired I was last night, I nearly fell asleep smack dab on the keyboard. That's more descriptive than any other words might do justice. When the mind has handled so many tense situations, the body exhausts itself  and just shuts down. Sleep is all that can restore the body and mind. Last night, even my innate desire to write to you could not be fulfilled. In fact, I recently awoke from an evening nap.

Local artwork. Gotta love it!

Even as the years as an operator pile up, stamina comes and goes. I thought the past week's slate of beautifully-sunny days would fill my bus with happy passengers. It did, but it also allowed for the worst in some people. Still, I attempted to make their day better, even if for a few minutes. For some, this goal was achieved. I retain the ability to help people laugh at the common absurdities of life. When this doesn't work, simply leaving a situation to play itself out is often the best course. Fingers crossed all the while, I monitor life on my ride.

"Please," I said into my microphone on several occasions, "keep the audio silenced on your phones and other electronic devices. Thank you!"

While management would chide me for attempting to retain control of my bus as it panders to the lowest common denominators who would do anything to distract us, this is one rule I strictly enforce. When people ask me why, I politely explain. Normal conversation, while largely absent in these days of cellphonitis, is just white noise. When someone listens to music or videos, it is difficult to concentrate, or pick out sounds we need to hear such as normal engine noise or nearby sirens. Also I tell folks that if I allow one to listen out loud, then others think it's okay until there's a tumultuous and unwanted jumble of concerts playing. Plus, one person's favorite tune might drive most people mad. So, I insist people use headphones. It all boils down to my being able to safely deliver them to their destinations. 

"You can't tell me what to do," one passenger told me. "You're just a bus driver, so just drive. Asshole."

That tempted me to key the mike and insist everyone else but him to get off the bus so I could... "just... drive... asshole." Instead, I offered him a walk in the beautiful sunshine, or to simply do as I asked. Lazy bastard chose to ride, damnit. At least he shut his device, and himself, up.

My week ended on a positive note. Rather than bore you with the details, let's just say I helped a gentleman in distress. He was someone's father/husband/uncle and friend. Very sweet old fellow who had a kind word for everyone. A blessing in the form of a jovial gem, after a day full of sneering snotballs.

"William," I told him as we parted ways, "it was a pleasure serving you."

It is, truly a pleasure. Bus operators all over the world find people who need a helping hand, and we all strive to lend it. I was but one of many that night, and it felt damn fine.

* * * * *

The last passenger to depart this week surprised me.

"You're that writer Deke," he told me. I jumped in my seat, shocked that someone I had never met had shattered the bubble surrounding this manufactured dual personae.

I could not lie, and he would not be thrown off the scent. What he said next floored me.

"Yeah, you're Deke, and you're a legend."

Yeah, this felt good.

This made me laugh heartily out loud. "Why naw, I'm just another ornery old bus driver."

"Maybe, but just keep doing what you do." With that, he exited my bus, leaving me chuckling to myself as I swept the bus for trash and possible lost and found items. I shook my head, amused yet pleased my writing drifts on to the eyes of folks I'll never have the honor of knowing.

"Legend, my ass," I laughed to myself.

If he only knew the real me, he'd think twice about that. For now, I'll take the compliment.

Thanks, everyone. You're the reason I still kick this old can around.