Bubba Backs Off

Deke's Note: The incident you are about to read happened earlier this week. It took me a few days to write about it. I almost didn't.

* * * * *

“Please leave the windows open,” I said over the PA. 

It was a cool night indeed, but who enters a professional’s office and starts shutting windows? Yes, a bus is my place of business. I handle the agency’s transactions, ensure a safe and smooth ride for all, regardless whether they pay for the service. As my office rolls along, monitoring passenger behavior is yet another task I perform.

I’ve learned to be polite when acknowledging violations of transit code. Thus it was so when I first heard, then saw, Bubba Wannabe-Badass shutting two windows in the back of my “office”. He began to whine, but reopened the windows, so I returned my attention to the kind young man who boarded with a stack of large cardboard sheets, which he was going to use for an art project.

Meanwhile, Bubba was steaming mad, so I began triple-tasking between him, driving and the artist. He was spewing verbal diarrhea in his protests. True, I had just finished a 20-minute layover and the HVAC had only been running a few minutes. It was still a bit nippy inside the bus.

“Yes,” I agreed, “it’s a bit chilly (50 is cool in Portland, but by no means cold). But it’s about to get even colder this winter, and my windows will remain... OPEN.” 

COVID-19 is known to remain airborne for several minutes, so I prefer circulation to stagnation.

As he continued his bluster, I became bored and irritated.

“You could walk if you like,” I said. “But it’s for your safety and mine to have airflow throughout the bus.”

“But I’m already wearing a mask!” he whined, interjecting several middle school curses toward and about me.

At the very next stop, only the second of that run, he lost it, slamming into the back door before I had fully stopped and could toggle the release switch. I thought he would lie down and start kicking the air; his tantrum was worse than a three-year-old’s. However, he managed to trip the sensor and nearly fell out as the door opened. I’m glad my mask hid my grin.

I had a few seconds to burn, so I turned back to “Paul”, as good a name for an artist as I could just conjure. Unfortunately, Bubba was not done.

He charged through the open front door, extending his arm and index finger up to the barrier, threatening to pull me out and commit great violence upon my body. 

I just stared at him. Amused, tensed to protect myself, but not budging and no longer smiling. As Bubba blubbered bountiful boasts of his badassery, dangerously close to losing his freedom, my own finger poised above “the button of doom”, Paul charged Bubba.

“STOP IT!” Paul shouted at him.

Startled, Bubba backed out, my once-docile fare evader and evident rescuer had a powerful voice. Bubba reconsidered his position and resigned. Still, he promised mayhem if he ever sees me again.

I thanked Paul when he exited, but in my distraction forgot to reward him with a free pass. He was a gentle young fellow, genuinely concerned for my welfare.

“All that because you asked him to leave the windows open! Wow,” he said in disbelief.

“It’s more common than you might think,” I replied.

As I left the stop, my mind was buzzing with afterthoughts and concerns. Should I have called it in? If I had, there would be the report to write; I was tired. Would management Monday Morning Quarterback my actions and reprimand me? Having heard horror stories of fellow operators in similar situations, I shrugged it off.

Later, I became angry. Why was I even remotely concerned about being threatened? Because our "leadership team" does not support us. Some brothers and sisters said they felt "accused" when it was insinuated their actions or words were the cause for their being attacked, threatened or assaulted. If I felt truly supported, there would have been no question about my calling it in.

My brother Henry is right about how to react when attacked, but in the moment, our thought processes are not "normal". We don't think right at the time, our body has just experienced the "Fight or Flight" biological response and is trying to recover. It took immense concentration to drive after Bubba's tirade. Still, it was distracted driving, even though I was as smooth, precise and focused as always. Driving a bus on automatic isn't the ideal mode of operation, but we all have done it. Henry has counseled me about this before. Reporting the incident means our agency has to acknowledge it. I failed my fellow operators for not calling it in. 

Now, having been assaulted twice, threatened and menaced several times and stalked once over eight years of service, you would think "I get it". It's embarrassing, but I offer my confession. Hopefully, you who read this and have been in similar situations will scold me, or offer words of advice. Maybe you will understand.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is in effect. Again, and still. Will I see this guy again? Will I recognize him? There's no record of his past performance so I can't have him removed off the bus with no historic credibility. That's on me, I get it. But if he does board my bus again, I will again insist he keep the windows open. I will not be bullied into jeopardizing the health of everyone on my bus. What will happen then? Is Bubba gonna blow his lid at me again? If he attacks me and I hurt him while protecting myself, will I be the one in hot water? If you attack a cornered beast, it naturally fights back. Human evolution over millions of years is impossible to reverse.

Sometimes it seems I am regarded as less than human, and am required to adhere to impossible standards. I guess it makes me a cornered animal, but I will defend myself the best I can, in the moment. I just hope it never happens.