Friday, 26 June 2009
Bus, My Boogie to Wonderland
By Brenda Adams who blogs at Jive Chalkin'
"What, you're gonna take the bus? Are you kidding me? Who takes the bus?"
I do. Got a problem with that?
It was our Sunday ritual. Dad would throw five of us plus mom into his Ford Galaxie 500 and take us for a meandering drive up Senneville Road, along Gouin and down Boulevard St. Laurent.
Big-eyed cows, belly-up dead skunks, mansions, ice fishing shacks, lake views and new developments whizzed by as my father cracked us up with knock-knock jokes, wise advice and stories about growing up in Montreal.
During one such ride, we saw a disheveled, reeling man exiting a tavern on a "skid row" strip.
"See that guy? That's what happens to people who drop out of school. Where do you think HE sleeps," said my father, shaking his head like Humphrey Bogart, then twisting it around.
"Who wants a cheeseburger?"
"Dad, could you turn up the radio."
"Splish splash I was taking a bath, all about a Saturday night..."
"Bobby Darin is no Frank Sinatra," muttered dad from behind the wheel.
"Hey, would you all quit horse breathing on me?"
"Dad, I need to go pee."
Taking the bus brings precious memories of my father.
If you ever sat clam tight with your siblings and dog in the middle back seat of a loaded car, you are capable of riding the bus.
Any bus. Anywhere.
We live minutes from a bus stop and I love it.
My nephew sweetened my bus adventures, by loading my mp3 player with 500 all time best rock-and-roll songs.
Sweet.
I keep it in my purse.
Most of the time, the monster on wheels is empty when it stops for me. So I grab my favorite front seat. I should engrave my name on that seat, but there is too much scratchitti already and, hey, my dad could be watching from above.
"Whaddaya think you're doing? Get a cloth, some soap and wash that off. What are you waiting for? Would you like a little lifter to get you started?"
Dad was in the navy, so he could come out with some colorful commands.
One female driver sings opera as she rolls along.
Cool.
Some people think only seniors and teens take the bus, but think again. You'd be surprised these days to see who gets on wearing business suits, carrying expensive briefcases.
You never can tell.
Taking the bus is no longer a low rent, bag over your head, no deodorant sport.
So, what about noise on the bus? I already mentioned my mp3 player plus, if you choose, you can buy some neat noise eliminating headphones to make your ride a Zen experience.
Once I don my phones, whatever hollering hyenas, Pavarotti-loud cell phone yakkers or Valley Girl mouth breathers are on, I don't give a poop, as I am listening to L.A. Woman by The Doors, or Lay, Lady, Lay by Dylan. No sweat.
Sometimes the music matches the scenery. For example, once while riding over the Turcotte Yards, Lennon sang Imagine and I designed a complete rose garden in the vast empty space below where winter snow is piled into dirty mountains that only melt in July.
It's roller coaster exciting to ride shotgun over the city examining church steeples, flat rooftops of St. Henri and old manufacturing plants. I've taken buses in cities all over the world and it's a great, cheap way of seeing a city with the people who make up that city.
Once we climbed aboard in Barbados not realizing it was a school bus. At each stop, students in uniforms got on and the driver greeted them by name. One young dude tried to slide on with his school tie akimbo and the driver leaned over and proclaimed loudly, "Young man, no way are you getting on MY bus looking like that. Straighten your tie, son."
And the teen did so, politely.
You can learn things when you take the bus. You discover all the different cultures in your city. You hear people discussing jobs, hopes, dreams. You find out about restaurants, break ups, love affairs and you feel good about the world.
Or you shut off the sounds with your music and meditate. Make plans.
Coming home from downtown on a Saturday night, the bus sways side-to-side as you fly over your city of lights. Your city. The city you love.
Montreal.
But if you feel like tuning in to the teen world soap opera, just sit back, fake a good sleep and find out where all the parties are, who is zooming who and why John Abbott College is better than, say Vanier College.
"I, like, told him, like, I wanna be friends, after, like, you know, he puked all over my cat at the party last night."
"Yeah, like, he's a major loser."
Once I asked my grade ten students to eavesdrop on the bus coming to school and to write down an overheard phrase, to be used in a future assignment.
"Miss, you mean anything we hear?"
"Yes, anything and that will be your opening line in your next story."
"Miss, you're weird."
"Maybe, but you still have to do that assignment."
A couple weeks ago, a bunch of my retired friends decided to meet downtown for lunch.
"I'll take the bus," I said.
"Hahahahahahah, oh my God. I live right near the subway and I NEVER take public transportation," blurted my not-so-close friend.
"Why not?"
She squirmed around trying to be politically correct, but finally blurted, "Only stinky people take the bus."
"Tell that to Mayor Bloomberg," I replied.
"Who?"
"Never mind."
I love poking holes in snobs.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Instructions for submitting are here.]
Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post
Comments
Great story - and I second your ideas about the bus. I take one almost every day in Philadelphia, and it's a great experience - a good thing for people-watchers!
Isn't it great how some of the best memories about our parents are the simplest ones?
I love your idea for a writing assignment. In fact, I started a blog a couple months ago, and one of my regular features is called "Overheard" - just lines I hear, usually on the bus, whenever they catch my fancy.
Thank you!
Posted by: Emilie on Jun 26, 2009 7:53:07 AM
Vivid writing -- thank you. I love the bus too. Bussed over to Highway 99 Blues Club last night to dance, in my short skirt and cowboy boots.
Posted by: Sixty and Single in Seattle on Jun 26, 2009 10:42:48 AM
I've heard some amazing life stories from passengers on the bus, for some reason it's like travel where people bring forth their histories for strangers. I loved your class asssignment. Great story.
Posted by: Celia on Jun 26, 2009 10:59:23 AM
Hi Brenda,
Thanks to the Pennsylvania Lottery, us old folks can ride Septa anywhere we want to go,FREE...
I often take them up on their generous offer and, like you, my main amusement is eavesdropping.
Once, two old guys were sitting in back of me and their conversation went like this.
"I saw Walt yesterday."
"That weren't Walt."
"Yeah,that WERE Walt, it were wrote right on his shirt."
"That weren't his shirt."
Unfortunately, they reached their stop and got off before I could hear whether or not that were really Walt.
I ask you, where could you drop in on a neat conversation like that, except on the BUS!
Great story, Brenda.
Posted by: Nancy on Jun 26, 2009 2:00:04 PM
Thank you for your kind comments on my story. Nancy, I cracked up so hard reading your "Walt" comments. My kind of humor.
Posted by: doctafill on Jun 28, 2009 4:05:05 PM
I loved your story and especially the end when you said you loved poking holes in snobs.
And your father sounds like many guys I used to know. Great guy and probably a lot of fun.
Posted by: Darlene on Jun 28, 2009 7:48:36 PM
