Caught in the Gap

During rush hour buses fall behind schedule due to traffic, or amounts of people. To fix this transit control will Short turn a bus, meaning it won't get to it's planned destination. This creates a gap (distance between buses) for the bus behind, from the point of the short turn until that bus reaches the same point in the opposite direction. This makes for angry passengers not only getting off that bus, but all the ones waiting at the stops in that gap. Now that the technical stuff is taken care of.

I pull up to the stop, open the door and wait for the people to slowly saunter onto the bus. I watch as my trump unit displays that I am 10 minutes behind schedule. Of course every person getting on, has some comment in regards to this (but not one of them feels like moving faster so I can close the doors). An elderly woman gets on and snaps "your late", her friend adds "we've been waiting 20 minutes". The young man behind them feels the need to ask "where have you been?" like some jealous boyfriend when his girlfriend comes home late from work. A scruffy looking guy begins to tell me why the service in this city is shit and how he's going to buy a car. I look at the people with my disarming smile and wonder why the hell they always seem to short turn the buses in front of me.

Usually 3 out of 10 people, will make a comment and there always the same: they tell me I am late (as if I didn't know) or they will tell me how long they have waited (as if I care). Depending on the how I am feeling, gauges my response. Some days I just stare blankly out the window and wonder what I will make for dinner that night. Other days I have witty remarks to there comments, or it just pisses me off, today was option #3.

After having about 15 people say something to me, I finally had enough. A lady got on very pissed off , telling me how long she had waited. I responded with "that must have been really rough for you" as I stopped the bus, and turned in my seat to listen to her. She was a little taken back by this and asked me what I was doing, I said "you seem to have something that is bothering you, I want to give you my undivided attention, and I can't do that safely while I am driving." The bus went silent, and she looked around for back up, found none, sat down and kept quiet.

The very next stop I pulled up to, a man got on and started in on me.
He said "whats wrong with you guys? your 25 minutes late"
I replied "I did this on purpose so you and I would have a good conversation starter".
He chimed "I don't need you to be facetious"
I said "I'm just trying to lighten the mood. The traffic is bad and the bus that's suppose to be in front of me, is behind me and the other bus got short turned. Do you really need me to go through he whole thing with you?."
Startled he said "no"
I continued, not missing a beat" So if you could sit down, because your blocking the door for the other passengers and now I will be 26 minutes late at the next stop" He sat.
Two stops later a guy came up to me and patted me on the shoulder and said "I like your sense of humor man, your doing a great job" and he got off the bus. I thought to myself "they're not all bad, there really are great people in this city". This revelation didn't stop me from smiling as I turned back south, my trump unit was beeping with a text message, telling me to short turn.

Every story has a beginning

I walk in the front doors of the transportation office, of a division that will remain nameless. I check in with the clerk, grab my fare box and head for the garage. As I check the bus list to find what bus I have and where I can find it, I light up my cigarette. I slowly make my way to the back of the garage, nodding and waving at other drivers, who look about as impressed as I feel. Words would be impossible to describe the noise and smell of 50 old, dirty, 1980 something buses revving there engines at 5 am. Each driver attempting to build the proper air pressure to take the bus into revenue service, by simply laying the gas peddle to the floor. As each bus fills the garage, with what I can only describe as toxic smoke, I take one last drag of my cigarette. A supervisor is coming towards me covering his mouth (probably trying not to directly inhale any of these fumes), telling me there is no smoking in the garage. I sarcastically take a look at my surroundings, then look back at him. This garage is more potent then an opium den at this point and he is more concerned about the possibility I may give him lung cancer..... I butt out and hop on my bus , do my safety checks, sound the horn and pull out of the garage. The sun has barely graced the sky with it's presence, as I head towards the depths of Toronto, Ready for yet another day of Driving the Rocket....