Adventures in the Back of the Bus

Today ranked as the best bus-experience to-date.

After waiting by the curb outside my classroom for less than 3 minutes, I saw the bus round the corner and I rose to greet him with a wave.

He slowed and pulled open the door with a lurch. I stepped inside, flipped my wallet against the plastic box, scanned my bus card (bought at 7-11) and turned to greet my traveling companions.

And that's when I saw it.
Or should I say, didn't see it.
Or should I say, didn't see them.

Any of them.

The bus was empty.


"AALLLLRRRRIIIGHT!!" I shouted. The bus driver looked a bit perturbed. He may have been rolling his eyes at me. I paid no mind. I knew just where I was going:

Priority Seating.
(picture coming after the weekend)

I sat down in the seats perfectly balanced between the wheel-wells. Typically, these are the seats reserved for the elderly, cripple, and Taichung Elite. Today that was me.

It was around this time that a slight fear struck me. I imagined the scene played out in my mind:

The stop immediately following mine swarmed with noisy high school children. Immediately, the hungry students filled the back of the bus: Blue Suits on one side; Green on the other. Before we took off, I felt a chopstick spit through a straw and strike me in the back of the head. I didn't turn to search the giggles.

The next stop had 4 elderly ladies, all carrying canes, AND 5 pregnant women - one who looked peculiarly like this young lady. I have no idea how any of them got up the stairs to the bus.

Two stops after my glorious discovery, and the bus was completely full. But that's when it happened. The next produced only one sole rider. An elderly man, with cane, and member of said Taichung Elite.

After boarding, he waddled towards me swifter than I've ever seen a swift-waddler waddle.
"You're in my seat." I was caught. He knew I didn't belong. But this was my glorious ride.
"What about her?" I said, nodding at preggo #5.

He didn't buy it: "Please relinquish your seat."

"Look here pops," I stated, resolved to enjoy my ride, "I'm the minority here. And I was here first. Waddle on back now. I'm declaring a Rosa Parks."

The old man, fire in his eyes, raised his cane over his head annnd...

...and I was brought back to reality with a jolt.

did we just fly past the first stop? I thought in anxious excitement - rather satisfied that I didn't have to actually declare a "Rosa Parks". (I don't think it would have the same lasting affect here as it did back in 1955. I made light of it here, but really, she inspires me every time I step onto a bus. Happy African-American History Month to all of you back home.)

Before I could decide whether or not I actually passed an empty stop while riding on an empty bus, we soared by another. And then another. My Excitement Grew. Like winning Roulette.

"Come on! Show me the nobodies! Show me the nobodiesssssYYAAH! One more! Good."

By now, I was sure the bus driver hated me. The trip went on like this until the stop a block before my let-off (You can't have all the luck). Still, when it came time for the doors to open, I stepped off that bus feeling like a Champion.

By far, best bus ride to date.

(Hat Tip: Rachel for doing the leg work and reporting on the Pregnant Lady, so I didn't have to.)
(Disclaimer: All verbal conversation found within this blog existed in and only in my head. No, I did not scream like I won the lottery to that poor bus driver.)