Riding The Bus, occasionally awarded one of America's best public transportation systems, is a continual exercise in patience and tolerance, for most folks, that is. Late buses, crowded buses, broken down buses. Don't forget about the passengers: Bus passengers who don't have access to bathing, passengers who are openly philosophical, passengers who are pleasantly friendly, passengers who are quiet and content. I once heard a homeless looking guy seemingly spewing quotes from what I gathered was Eric Cartman from South Park: "Fxxkin'Hippies.They're everywhere. They wanna save the earth, but all they do is smoke pot and smell bad" I sometimes end up sitting close to all but the quiet and content.
I needed to pick up my car from the repair shop. Although it is dying a slow death, I was actually going to take it from the 'hospital' and bring it to a funeral home. In any event, the auto repair shop is in a location where I could either take the 42A or the 20. Of course the first to arrive was the number 20. I was actually hoping for the 42A because it is a 'double jointed' bus, and I like sitting in the jointed, accordion part. I slipped the $2.25 into the binnacle and took an aisle-facing seat in the rear of the bus. As the bus meandered left and right through downtown picking up and letting off passengers, an ill-kempt guy took the front-facing seat next to me. After a few moments I heard him say something, but not making any eye contact, thought he was on a cell phone. Next stop, a nervous, figity guy sat next to me, the bus was getting crowded. I heard the the local dude ask me where I was from, and when I told him 'Punchbowl' he kindly told me I was going the wrong direction on the bus. We chatted a bit about my car, and the trip to the auto repair shop. "The 42A gets you closer" he said. Meanwhile, recall that the number 20 stops at the airport and there did happen to be increasing numbers of island visitors, clutching baggage.. We were making slow, but decent progress through the outskirts of downtown, but whenever the bus stopped, the haole-looking dude blurted out "Shit" Mostly under his breath, but those of us in the back of the bus could hear this very well.
"God damned fuckin bus" Eventually he detailed his discontent. "Fuckin tourists" he muttered. " you all should just go somewhere else, get off the [fucking] bus!". Eventually my first neighbor, a local guy, asked me if I wanted a beer, and approximated to me an unopened can of Primo. How cool, man. I did not see any other beers that he may have had and I was truly humbled as I thought this dude, albeit drunken and not having any idea about the anti-tourist sitting next to me, offered me his last beer. That's respect, brother. Seeing that it was his last beer I declined, although the thought of drinking beer in the back of the bus was appealing. Anyway my stop was next. The drunk slapped me a low five, and gave me a shaka (respected again).
I'm getting off this fuckin' bus and I'm gonna have a beer
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