Just Roll

Writer's Note: I've been driving Line 35 every day for a year now. Having had enough of the Dirty3, where maybe 50% pay fare and even more cause trouble, I was just... done. A very few of my regulars miss me, the troublemakers do not. It was the Dirty3 which taught me to be either sweet and sassy or terribly hardassed. I did not enjoy how often I had to be the latter. After 10 years as a bus operator, my bullshit meter just up and broke. The 35 features a professional lot of whom 90% or more actually pay for their ride, and their respect level is far and above the majority who I once ferried about for a pittance of appreciation.

Ahh, the benefit of seniority is finally showing itself after 300,000 miles behind the wheel. The longer you toil in the seat, the fewer the runs you are willing to sign. We all find our favorites and those less desirable, with a few in between you're willing to roll if the hours are enticing enough. I've found a niche of a route which allows me a certain freedom with my rush hour crowd. They allow me to be as real as I'm willing to be, to sneak a few sentences on the PA system where I hope to entice even a few of the high end of transit passengers a smile on their daily roll homebound. 

It all depends on the mood. Mostly my own. If I'm grumpy, sore and tired, it's less likely for me to find the words other than "At this time of day, this bus does NOT service the stops on the Sellwood Bridge." Usually, the first few days of my week allow me to do as Dad told me: "have fun". 

Dad's words have seen me do so in the sense of pure orneriness. Once, a passenger berated me for being late. Of course, it wasn't my fault to be behind schedule, and I drive the same no matter where the clock finds my ride. Looking in my driver side mirror, I saw my follower directly behind me. As we rolled, Joe Jerkoff kept up his tirade, whining about how my being late was ruining his life. As I pulled up to a stop, I mentioned to Joe that my follower directly behind me was exactly on time, perhaps a bit early, and that if he was so concerned about being "one time", perhaps the bus behind me was more to his liking. To my surprise and the amusement of my passengers, he exited. I chuckled with delight as he ran to the bus behind me and demanded to board.

Then there was a known troublemaker awaiting any bus at 5/Davis. After two paying passengers boarded, Whiskey Willy appeared. Remembering the last time he delayed my bus when I had to call for help after refusing him service, I found my most ornery side. "Hey dude," I shouted while simultaneously raising the bus, "did you drop that $20 over there?" He turned to look. I closed the door and floored it.

* * * * *

A few years ago during the darkest moments of the pandemic, I took to the microphone in an attempt to encourage folks with messages of inspiration and humor. We were all wondering WTF about this supposed humanity killer. Everyone was on edge. Many saw their financial situation turned upside down as the early months saw the world just simply... STOP. I drove Line 9 back then (the inspiration for my short story "Love Renewed on a Bus" and novel-in-progress about a certain troll), which was normally a heavy-ridden ride until then. 

So many folks were frightened, or refusing to believe "the media". Nerves were frayed, faces sad and worried. I felt the need to find their smiles again. It became my goal to give folks hope where everywhere else they only saw fear and dismay. Digging deep into my library, I found messages of hope to send to my fellow Portlanders.

"You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true." Richard Bach.

"I believe every human has a finite amount of heartbeats. I don't intend to waste any of mine." Neil Armstrong.

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." Maya Angelou.

I didn't often hear responses when I shared these inspirational quotes. All I hoped was they reached my audience. What they did with the message was entirely up to them.

It uplifted me the number of times folks would walk from the rear of the bus to the front upon exiting, to quietly thank me for making an attempt to ease their fears with a message of hope. These personal connections meant a great deal to me, a bus operator at the forefront of the pandemic, needing my own uplifting in the constant fear that my life was in danger simply doing my job. 

Having a connection with those I serve has always been vital to me, even when some encounters are less than rewarding or downright dangerous. My goal has always been to acknowledge my passengers one-by-one, to warmly welcome them to my ride. Most appreciate this greeting with a muted one of their own; some totally ignore me; a few look at me sideways with a distrustful smirk as if to say "What do you care?"

All this aside, my main goal is to safely ferry my passengers to their stop. Without scaring them with questionable driving techniques, or frightening confrontations with troublesome assholes.  Not only does this goal make the ride comfortably numb, but it helps me get through a shift. I strive to be the shining moment of their day, to ease their soul even for the average 20 minutes of their ride. It's amazing what a smile and kind comment can do to ease someone's daily strife. When folks tell me they appreciate my roll, it's a welcome elixir for my anxiety-ridden soul.

It's a rocky two-way street where bus transit is concerned. You can annoy an already-stressed operator if you're not "ready to board" when we arrive at your stop. Being hypnotized by your phone is not an excuse for failing to have your fare and belongings prepared when I roll up. No, the Cellphone Age hasn't changed the rules of transit: Buses Don't Wait for People; People Wait for Buses". (Oh, and please note that the plural of "bus" has only ONE "s"; damn that proper English anyway!)

* * * * *

To conclude this transit operator's ramble, it's vital that I recognize the "professional bus passenger". Thank you for being ready at the actual stop (the blue pole, NOT the shelter). We appreciate your being fare ready and efficient upon boarding, with acknowledgement of our greeting. Thank you for keeping your feet off the seats, for using headphones or otherwise keeping your audio to yourself, and for not arguing with your fellow passengers. Operating a bus is not easy, and anything you can do to promote a peaceful easy feeling aboard helps us immensely.

While I'm rolling wheels there's a constant soundtrack in my mind helping me along the way. Whether it's Steely Dan's Deacon Blues or James Taylor's Traffic Jam, Heart's Crazy On You or Aretha Franklin's R-E-S-P-E-C-T, you can be sure I'm in tune with my musical soul. Don't interrupt me with your own playback, folks... I don't NEED to hear it. Got my own song where I belong.

Thanks for riding, thanks for reading. I'm going to bed now.