We're All Only Human

My entry into the
Clarendon Street Pumpkin Carving Contest.

Deke's Note: I preface this post with the pseudonym "Deke" for one reason only. A few nights ago, a passenger presented me with a copy of "JUST DRIVE - Life in the Bus Lane" and asked me to sign it for him. It had been at least a year since that had happened. A few nights later as I turned in my pouch at end-of-shift, an operator greeted me with this name upon seeing me after another shift of my beloved Line 35. It was the first time I've heard someone call me by my former nom de plumme, and it felt good. That meant this operator has read these posts for quite a while, long before I left that name behind. Now that I'm Patrick again, I was bound to write another post here after that kind acknowledgement. Thanks, brother. Meanwhile, safe travels to you and all my brothers and sisters behind the wheel across this blue marble which rotates/accelerates/floats into infinity. We're all spinning down the road together, and I appreciate you all.

Because our transit agency has had to cut service the past few years, I have to catch a bus in front of our garage one hour prior to my road relief downtown. It used to be 30 or 45 minutes (at the very latest) ahead of my relief time, but now instead the Line 17 runs once every 30 minutes instead of 15. Not wanting to find myself behind the 8-ball catching the 3:00, my sense of duty impels me to ride the 2:30, which drops me off downtown about 40 minutes prior to my road relief at 3:32 p.m. For this dedication, I'm paid less than $7/hour not to be charged with an oversleep. During this time I'm walking downtown streets in uniform, game for any intending passenger with a cellphone in hand, asking me when the next "whatever line" bus is coming, or where to catch the next "whatever line". Because I'm fully in uniform, I'm expected to be in Customer Service mode. Even though these people hold a powerful computer in their hands which is more adept at giving them the information they need than I am, they still ask the obvious.

It's irritating, but by using the phone I hold in tandem with millions of others at the same time, I patiently look up arrival times when someone asks. It used to be a moment I would shun this thrust-upon responsibility, rudely encouraging people to answer their own questions given the information immediately available. At the 10-year mark, I've found my peaceful, happy-to-help self instead of being impatiently rude. So, even though I'm seeking solace and peace prior to my shift, I've learned to help those who ask my assistance. It's easy for me, eases their anxiety, and it elevates my soul to represent.

This service to my transit agency is often overlooked. We're paid slave wages for road relief in comparison to our normal hourly wage. This fleeting interruption is replaced by the reason I signed up for this job in the first place, 10 years ago: To be the person people can approach. A smooth operator, one who actually cares about them. And yes, I finally do. Took me a decade to give up my selfishness, but here I am.

* * * * *

Just looked at my On Time Performance stats for the first time in months. It was astounding that over 30 days, I was 0% early (except twice 1% early... oops, sorry), 92% on time. Given traffic, passenger loads, Rose Quarter events (add 10-20 minutes of late time and missed breaks), re-routes and passenger misconduct, you can depend on ol" Patrick to arrive on time 9/10 times you await my bus.

I work hard to keep my bus on schedule. Knowing when I'm likely to be early so I hold to kill time, efficient boarding passengers, and anticipating their needs upon boarding. I also know what parts of my route will afford me time to make up, and when I might be too early a few minutes ahead so I'll stop and let the clock catch up. The worst thing about being a passenger is running late and hoping their bus is right on time, just to arrive to see it pass on by, a few minutes early. I'd rather run half-a-minute late so they don't helplessly watch me roll past where they almost are. Given Portland's unpredictable rain schedule, I'd rather not make people wait for the next bus.

It truly irks me to hear folks talk about how transit operators are "unskilled workers" who demand more than we deserve. I humbly resent such ignorant drivel. In my decade of operation, I have worked hard to learn the intricacies which propel my vehicle to my passengers' stops. Every inch of my route I'm keenly-focused. On traffic of all kinds anywhere near my bus. Studying traffic patterns and predicting what the road 10 minutes ahead might look like. Watching for Impatient Ichabod, predicting his childish "me first" road-raging antics, keeping him safe as he sails past me with whiny horn blaring and single-finger salute floating out his window. I forgive him, not that he cares. Because I have, he will arrive safely home rather than crushed underneath my 20-ton Beast. Oh yeah, you're welcome. Peace be with you, Ignoramus.

* * * * *

This week marked my 10th year anniversary as a bus operator. I have not wanted to do anything else this past decade. Rail doesn't interest me. Nor does any supervisory position. I'm a Bus Operator. I prefer rubber on the road, thank you. My driving skills have been honed over five decades, first learned as an 11-year-old who begged his Dad to teach him on the dirt roads of my beloved Sunset Valley, Arizona. Dad's lessons pre-dated my bus trainers' steadfast insistence on the Smith System, which focuses on keeping others safe via watching out for others, and being able to implement Plans B, C and D whenever necessary. We regularly expect other drivers to do the worst possible thing, being ready for anything that might happen two steps ahead of it. 

I cannot count the times I have saved lives over a decade of service to Portland. We all see the headlines when someone screws up and is injured or killed in a collision with a transit vehicle: "Pedestrian Killed By Bus" or "Motorist Killed by Light Rail Vehicle". You never hear the true reason for the collisions: the motorist or phone-stoned pedestrian was not paying close enough attention to their immediate task at hand: safely motoring to their destination. They took a foolish chance that horribly failed to succeed.

It's in the prayers of hundreds of thousands of worldwide bus/rail operators that we're constantly vigilant, able to predict the most dire situations and react accordingly to save somebody's momentarily-ignorant lapse of reason. 

Each day I'm about to take control of my Mega Beast, I have uttered the same mantra each day of my past 9.5 years: "Be Safe, Be Kind, Be Considerate, Be Patient, Be Thoughtful, Be Polite, Be Vigilant, Be Calm, Be Smooth, Be Smart, but most of all, again and always, Be SAFE."

Sometimes as I walk to my road relief, I may forget to utter The Mantra. Doesn't matter, because once I'm in the seat, logging in and preparing my workspace for the shift ahead, it always comes to me. Even when this fails and I've rolled a few stops without saying it, you might see me as you await my bus mouthing words you cannot hear: it's The Mantra. Later on, if I find myself failing on any point of it, I'll repeat this 11-point reassurance to my daily pledge to our metropolis.

Each time I begin a run during my shift, I say "Be Safe" again, even more times along the roll. I take my job more than seriously. It's an intense promise I make to those I serve and maneuver around, one I am incredibly proud to uphold, having avoided thousands of mishaps over the years.

* * * * *

The gentleman I relieve on Saturday afternoons is one I have enjoyed meeting several signups over the years. He's retiring next month. He always rolls into our stop on time, often a minute early because he understands it takes a few for me to settle into my "office" for the next 10 hours. Roy is a prince, and I will be sad when he arrives at 6/Washington for the final time. He's predictable, knows just what information I need to know when taking over the route. He's about 6-7 years ahead of me. Someday, I'll be in his shoes, rolling my final fun to its last stop.

Until that point, I'm dedicated to the safety of all who ride or exist anywhere near my Beast. I just wish others shared a transit operator's dedication to their time on the road. If people were more focused on their driving, then many loved ones would not have to hear those officer's sad words none of us should ever hear.

No, folks. It's not true that "only others" will die in car crashes. They're not "accidents". Just your failure to pay attention while driving. YOU are next, unless you wise up, dumbass. PLEASE, pay attention. Read the Smith System points for safe travels. Your loved ones deserve your focus. I pray you don't fail to heed this warning. We're all sailing towards death; don't accelerate your own demise by failing to simply be careful behind the wheel. We're all counting on you.

Meanwhile, bless all of you who have lost loved ones to fatal accidents. Especially my dear Jacqui, whose son and granddaughter were lost last week. My heart is heavy with grief for her, and all of you. Me included, as we have ALL lost people who left us too soon. 

Peace be with y'all. Love you.

Thanks to my passenger/friend Jordan, "A Prince in Disguise."