Das Bus

Hello.

My name is John.

Today marks the fifth consecutive week that I haven't ridden a bicycle.

I may lose it and need you to talk me down from the ledge.

It's not just not riding my bike that's driving me crazy. It's that in combination with hemorrhaging public transportation.

Before I dive into this, kudos where kudos are due:

The past two mornings have found Aly and me, coffee and gym bags in hand, running for the bus stop. Two grown people, chugging down the street, running for a bus.

Also these last two mornings the bus has begun to pull away from the curb, stop in the middle of the intersection and let us hop on.

The same elderly woman has been behind the wheel and on both occasions and has welcomed us on board with smiles as well as provided play by play commentary of each stop, our current on-time status and tips on how to retrieve lost mittens.

Not an unpleasant way to start you day. However, I tell you that to tell you this.

There has also been mornings we have stood at the same bus stop for 20 minutes in negative temperatures, to come on board in a suit and tie and sit next to a young chap who thinks it's perfectly acceptable to take a swig out of a brown bottle and hock a loogie against a handrail.

Either way, I miss my bike.

The one perk that public transportation does afford is unparalled people watching. One of, if not my top, hobby.

The Minneapolis busses are laid out with sideways facing seats in the front and in the back of the bus. The middle of the bus hosts forward facing seats, two to a side, and one row of forward facing seats across the back of the bus.

Anyone who rides the bus could probably attest to the unspoken, but understood, prefered seating locations on the bus. The sideways seats are always last to be filled due to the awkward eye-contact avoidance game you're forced to play once someone sits across from you - with the one exception of the seat directly next to the door, which is usually occupied by an elderly grandma and her walker.

The forward facing middle section isn't bad - but your still forced to deal with the semi-awkward, stranger touching my leg, situation. This gets especially hairy during the winter, when everyone has forced themselves into multi-layer poofy jackets, which easily spill into the personal space boundry.

The most coveted seats on the bus are the forward facing seats, wedged into the back corner. You are first class indeed enjoying more leg room than the peasants in the middle of the bus, a slightly more reclined seat and the fact you are wedged into a position that ensures your interaction with other people will be kept to a bare minimum.

Last Thursday I was riding the bus home, and found myself enjoying such a seat.

The stop after I board downtown is busy, and typically fills the bus quickly. Another twenty-something male boarded and sat next down next to me.

He was on the phone. This didn't bother me as much as the fact that he was wearing womens boots. Due to the number of riders causing personal space infraction, it was all I could do not to overhear his phone conversation.

"Hi Boo. Yeah, I'm on das bus. Yeah, I'm on my way home, I'm right by the Walker."

What made me raise an eyebrow was we weren't by the Walker. Not even close. We were in the direct middle of downtown. True, the bus we were on eventually rounded the corner by Loring Park and passed by the Walker, but that was a good 10 - 15 minutes from where we were located.

I gave him the benefit of the doubt. When I'm running late, and I've told Aly I'd be somewhere - I tend to exend my location a bit. He went on,

"Yeah boo. I'm getting off das bus right now. Well, I got to go - I don't my hand to freeze in the cold."

He had literally just sat down. Unless he was planning on walking to the Walker, which was suspect to being his final destination anyway, he didn't seem to be in a rush to get off the bus. He had is phone out and was running text messages as fast as his keypad could keep up.

15 minutes or so later we were cruising past the Walker and he gets out his phone. In a much different tone, he muttered,

"Yeah homie, I'm here. Okay? Okay! Good, good. Right. Okay."

In front of the Blockbuster, he slams his phone shut and jumps off the bus right before the doors close.

This was a fairly uneventful interaction between he and I. However, I found the whole vibe so strange, I put my book away and thought about it the rest of the ride home.

Undercover agent? Prostitute on the side? What the hell was this guy up to?

I landed at my bus stop before I could deduct a legitamite answer to that question. As I got up, with a perplexed look on my face, I caught eyes with a guy in lowly side seat.

I could immediately tell we were both thinking the same thing. As I rose from my seat, he made a vauge pointing jesture and mouthed to me,

"What the hell was that?"