You people should get off the bus! Would you like a beer?

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

I ride the bus, I floss my teeth, I trim my beard, my pants fall down

I am not unfamiliar with riding on crowded public transportation: San Antonio's VIA no.551, 'Are those Ruben's Tamales?', NYC's A train where riders are not afraid of chemical warfare, the Antwerp tram where you must exit only the rear of the car. The Bus in Oahu is really not much different. Most times I catch the no. 20 which winds its way from Pearl Harbor to Waikiki, of which the Honolulu airport is a popular stop. With practice, standing on a crowded bus laden with island visitors and heavy luggage, intermixed with warehouse workers and homeless folks becomes less intimidating. It can get so crowded that the only place to stand is behind the forbidden yellow line. I've been banged by luggage, backpacks, suitcases, elbows, small Chinese women carrying sacks of live sea crabs and spiny lobsters, and a whole gamut of other items while riding The Bus. It is the one place in Hawaii to stand up close with the less fortunate homeless persons. I am empathetic towards society's outcasts, but riding The Bus provides a strange combination of being unpleasant yet entertaining. Many of the homeless whom with I've come into contact smell. Fortunately the bus riders seem not to have the weeks-earned smell of urine and whatnot. The recirculated air confines of the bus prohibit standing upwind.

Several riders caught my attention on a recent trip. Now, Hawaii is known, not by me and you, to be a great place to reside as a homeless person, I suspect Honolulu has a good deal of 'working homeless' persons. Homelessness is tolerated here. The gentleman flossing his teeth, albeit not a full house of choppers, I overheard was going for an interview at a restaurant. His tee shirt has probably never been washed. I am the opposite: never floss, always wash. The seat in front of me was occupied by a 40'ish year old guy, trimming his 'stache, avec mirror, and general primping, deodorant application and a quick wisp of aftershave (aftertrim). He got off at the airport

Honorable mention: A pleasant elderly homeless man came onto The Bus clutching his pants with one hand, holding his other hand out for spare change, and collecting I might add! His balance was unchallenged when The Bus was stopped, he made a slow path to the back of the bus, gaining coins with one hand, holding up the baggy pants with the other. When a bus moves, however, balance is preserved with at least a 3 point support base: 2 legs, one arm. Sure enough, when the bus took off quite rapidly, he had to choose which hand to use to hold a steady balance. My guess was right when he used the hand holding up the greatly over sized pants to attain standing balance. It is harder to pick up coins, which have rolled way out of your reach, and possibly into someone else's hands. The pants came down as gravity took over. People on The Bus are cool because thay seemed to act as if this always happens. I am the opposite, I keep my pants on and lose my money.