The People On The Bus

Signs We're Passing By

2010-10-01T23:13:00.001-07:00

And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold.

Matthew 12:24

Chameleon XLE - One of my all time favorites

2010-03-18T13:56:00.000-07:00

EMBED-Chamelion XLE - Watch more free videos

Burglar Fail

2010-03-05T12:06:00.001-08:00

see more Epic Fails

A Matter of Time

2010-01-26T21:31:00.001-08:00

Bus-smell is a strong smell. Of course, the distinct odor of bus-smell is contingent on the elements that have soaked into every seat, handrail, and wall of each respective bus - giving it it's unique flavor.

The first component is diesel gas. This seems almost unavoidable. Buses drive around all day every day. Buses run on diesel. I get it. I say "almost unavoidable" because my car, although not running on diesel, doesn't smell like gas all the time - not even after an eight-hour road trip. Why can't they make buses that don't smell like diesel gas all the time? Just a thought.

However, the strongest contributor to bus-smell is, unsurprisingly, cigarette smoke. Why do the bad smells always have to overpower the good? It really highlights the strength of smoke when you consider that smoking isn't allowed on the bus (See: March 4, 2009). The smell is completely attributable to the people that emanate it from their shoes, clothing, hair, skin, teeth, and breath. Case in point: In the morning on my way into the city, there is an old lady that often boards the bus just a few blocks before I get off. She oozes smoke. I'm usually ten feet away from her but can sense it as soon as she steps on. Sometimes I think the bus begins to smell of cigarettes even as it slows to pick her up - like the bus senses her approaching and emits a low-dose scent of tobacco to prepare the rest of the passengers. The best part - she's always lugging an oxygen tank behind her.

Nevertheless, the greatest influence on the severity and variety of smells that have come together, over time, to form the characteristic odor that defines a bus is time itself. Age has the same effect on bus-smell that it has on a fine Romano cheese, which takes anywhere between 5 and 12 months to meld it's separate ingredients together before ready to be savored. Except, the oldest buses are like a stale, moldy cheese that's been sitting in a pool of diesel on the floor of a smoker's garage for 5-12 years. Fortunately, not all buses smell strongly - yet. But it's only a matter of time...

Mr. Know-it-all lives...

2009-09-18T21:27:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered if you have some kind of unexplainable cosmic connection with a person or place - the kind of bond which is continually revisited through random events and experiences that bring the two of you together in a wide variety of seemingly unrelated circumstances? So it is with Mr. Know-it-all (see September 3, 2008 and October 14, 2008).

A few days ago we (me, wife, minions) were on our way somewhere driving down the road next to a row of stores and passed by a familiar face holding a sign for a sale at one of said stores.

DOUBLETAKE

(My Brain)
Yes, it was him.

Don't panic.

He didn't see you.

After assuring myself of the above facts I turned to wife. "Did you see that guy with the sign?!!"

"Yes," says wife.

"That's Mr. Know-it-all! You know - THE GUY?"

"Oh, really?!" says wife craning her neck to look back at him.

"Let's turn around so you can see him," I say.

"No," says wife (voice of reason). "We'll see him on the way back!"

Unfortunately, we followed a different road home, BUT not to worry...I know I will see him again. He's like a bad penny

You can't tell me wrestling isn't choreographed...

2009-06-29T15:17:00.000-07:00

Greatest. Performance. Ever.

2009-06-26T15:58:00.000-07:00

Money Man

2009-06-03T11:45:00.000-07:00

So the other day I'm on the bus on the way home from work. I'd probably been riding for 15 or 20 minutes by this time, and this guy maybe three or four rows in front of me is having a friendly intermittent conversation with another guy in the seat behind him. Keep in mind that most people on the bus read or listen to their IPODs, so when someone has a conversation you can usually catch most of it. It was clear that these individuals didn't know each other. This had been going on the entire time I had been on, and is not uncommon on the bus.

After a few minutes of silence, the guy turns to the person behind him and asks, "Hey, do you have five-hundred dollars?" Startled briefly, the other guy then mutters slowly, "Uhhhhh, no." "OK," says the first guy. A minute later the bus stopped and he got off.

Born Again...

2009-04-18T21:50:00.000-07:00

The little black box was found! The Bus has now been reconstructed with it's remains, albeit with some slight changes. Similarly to when a person goes through a traumatic physical experience and ends up with some side effects - like straight-haired women who, post-pregnancy, emerge with curly hair - the Bus has a new look and feel.

The most notable change may be the random music which we've been listening to. It seems the new Bus has a taste for 80's adult contemporary tunes - among other songs. I haven't quite yet figured out where it's coming from, but am in no hurry to locate and remove the source. Certainly you didn't assume that I was responsible for what happens on the bus, did you? Besides, it beats the normal alternating mix of silence and strange conversation...

There seems to be some experimenting concerning the paint as well. I'm assuming that the Bus has chosen the Mario Bros. template for now as it tries to find a more permanent identity. Perhaps as it searches through the information on the little black box, it's harkening to it's past. I can only assume that, say, twenty-four years ago or so it was a school bus. I must say, it feels pretty good, no?

Aside from those changes, which seem to be the only ones (for now),the three or four of you faithful readers and/or stalkers shouldn't notice any differences.

'Til next time.

Goodbye, Cruel World

2009-03-28T19:13:00.000-07:00

BOOM!

This bus has been suicide-bombed...

Partially because it's just too cool to end a blog about a bus this way...mostly because no one (sorry Brittany and Carly) really reads it.

Decommission to follow hereafter.

Rules, Restrictions, Signs and Symbols

2009-03-04T12:39:00.001-08:00

Restriction signs adorn the sides, front, and back of every bus I've ever ridden. They vary in size, color, and other certain details, but overall have the same feel. There is also some definite consistency in their respective messages, which are usually three-fold: No Music, No Eating or Drinking, and No Smoking (thankfully).

It stands to reason that the overseers of public transportation have to assume that not everyone can read English (or at all), but nevertheless must try their best to convey these rules so that everyone has an equal opportunity to obey. They do this through the use of common symbols with the classic circle and slash in front (I don't know if there's a word for the circle/slash thingy). The correct interpretation of these symbols, however, requires some assumption on behalf of the viewer as to what the creator means by their use.

As I rode the bus last week contemplating said signs, I began thinking about a scenario in which a person, upon seeing these symbols for the first time, might interpret them more literally than figuratively for any number of reasons. What might they see? What might they think?

The following are some examples of common symbols displaying the aforementioned restrictions with my accompanying literal interpretations. I had to find these online, and tried to find signs that most closely resemble those I see on a daily basis. I'll try to get some pictures of the actual signs used by the UTA system which I frequent that inspired these thoughts.

Feel free to leave your own.

NO ARMY JEEPS
...ON THE BUS

NO USING STRAWS TO EAT HAMBURGERS
...ON THE BUS

NO DRAWING WITH CHALK
...ON THE BUS

What are those, ants?

2009-01-21T15:46:00.000-08:00

No, it's a satelite image of Washington Monument and part of the 2 million people that were watching the Presidential inauguration. Crazy.

From Clifford C. Clavin, Jr.

2008-11-25T08:41:00.000-08:00

Did you know that Mount Rushmore was originally supposed to look like this?

But due to a lack of funding, the project was ended in 1941 as we see it today.

In Defense Of...The Religious

2008-11-06T14:05:00.000-08:00

Occasionally it's time to get serious here on the bus, and there is a certain sentiment among what I believe is a very LOUD minority of individuals who have caused this driver to pull over for a few minutes and pull out the soap box again. You shouldn't assume that I'm referring to any specific group or class of people. I'm not. I say minority because I truly believe that the majority of people - in America, anyway - would agree with my viewpoint on this matter. This minority, however unfortunately, gets a lot of attention.

This group I refer to believes religion - like the rest of the world - is supposed to progress and evolve with the ever-decreasing standards that the world is sinking to rather than figure out how to progressively, creatively, and LOUDLY combat said influences. If there is a religious person who tries to keep the door shut on practices or ideals which they view as potentially damaging to themselves and society then they are called "closed-minded." Lo and behold, those who do most of the finger-pointing are not religious.

The subject of their argument is a valid topic, but their target is not. The sights of the irreligious should not be set on the religious; rather, the target of narrow-mindedness should be the irreligious themselves.

Religious people are open-minded. They don't need proof. They have believing blood. They believe that they can become something better than they are right now - that God actually wants them to - and let that belief help dictate the decisions they make. They have lofty goals and make great sacrifices to achieve them. They engage in daily and weekly activities to help them and others grow closer toward those goals. They are disciplined. Many religious people are so open-minded and so believing that they will even choose to take a stand against various immoral actions or abstain from certain activities because they know those things would only impede their progress. The irreligious often confuse this type of refusal with being closed-minded when in fact it is their own closed-mindedness that cannot comprehend such action.

The irreligious cannot comprehend the idea of belief without sight. They need proof. They are seekers of immediate pleasure. They don't realize that by only living for the here and now they are actually not going to enjoy life as much here and now. They believe that they can prove their open-mindedness by partaking of everything and not rejecting anything, while not realizing that by so doing they are accepting nothing.

(Step down. Pick up box. Put back on bus. Sit down. Keep driving.)

I'm sure that won't be the last time I'll have to pull over. Watch for more installments of "In Defense of" in the future. In the mean time, don't stop doing what's right, and don't be afraid to talk LOUDLY!

Feel free to finish the following sentence...

2008-10-23T11:44:00.000-07:00

"It'll be funny when, two years from now, ..."

I'll begin: It'll be funny when, two years from now, Barack Obama is President of the United States, and the country realizes that they hate him just as much as the last two or three presidents.

Now your turn...

Alcohol = Brain Shrinkage

2008-10-14T14:36:00.000-07:00

Interesting article on CNN.com. Further proof of the fruits of Joseph Smith as a prophet. I doubt when the Word of Wisdom was received in 1833 that there was any scientific evidence of the negative physical effects of drinking alcohol.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/diet.fitness/10/14/healthmag.alcohol.brain.shrinkage/index.html

UPDATE: Mr. Know-It-All, The Eccentric

2008-10-14T09:17:00.000-07:00

After not seeing Mr. Know-It-All for several months, we happened to be riding the same bus yesterday afternoon. I saw him just before we boarded at the same stop downtown. I was trying to maneuver to get a picture of him with my cell phone, but he was sitting at the front, and I was crammed in the back making it a little awkward to take a picture without drawing too much attention to myself.

Interestingly, however, was his lack of a "pork-pie" hat. Just messy hair on his head. Also, he was carrying a half-full gallon of water and a computer keyboard...??? True to my assumption about his being a vagabond, he got off of the bus at a different stop than I ever remember seeing previously. He is also sporting a handlebar mustache these days. It looks pretty good on him. (Note: The above picture is not Mr Know-It-All, I just thought this guys handlebar stache was too cool to pass up)

Hopefully it won't be so long before I see him again. I must admit that even though interacting with him frightens me into the fetal position, I felt some comfort in seeing someone familiar that I hadn't seen in such a long time. It was almost like running into an old friend...almost.

I'd rather wait...

2008-10-08T10:50:00.000-07:00

The other day, I got to the bus stop fairly early - maybe 10 minutes. From my vantage point walking down the long hill near my house, I could see that there was someone waiting there already. By the time I got to the stop about 5 minutes later I could see that it was a woman.

When the bus came, we boarded together, and after perhaps 30 to 40 seconds she pulled the cord to get off at an area only 4 blocks away where there is a place to transfer to another bus. Remember, these aren't city blocks we're talking about either.

To review, she waited 15 minutes for a bus to take her 4 blocks. No, she wasn't confined to a wheelchair or needed the use of a cane. No, she wasn't wearing high heels, or a skirt, or any other movement-preventive clothing. There is no bench at my bus stop, so she STOOD waiting for AT LEAST 15 minutes for a bus to take her where she could have walked in less than 5 minutes.

And that's not the first time I've seen that happen. Mind you, I walk at least 4 tenths of a mile if not a full mile (if I miss the first bus and have to take a different one) to get to the bus stop, so I'm completely unsympathetic to people who are unwilling to walk AT ALL. I'd rather not wait...

Grandma Sycamore

2008-09-08T16:12:00.000-07:00

Do you mean like the bread, you ask? Well, sort of. They're both locally made, are soft and squishy, and bring to mind scenes of fireplaces, cozy kitchens, warm smiles, and...(deep sigh)...you get the point. That's what I picture every time Grandma Sycamore gets on the bus.

Grandma Sycamore defines homemade. I've never seen her without some type of knitted clothing, and on more than once occasion with matching knitted hat, sweater, and even gloves! She even wears knitted clothing in the summer. She is also a model of consistency. Everything she does seems deliberate. She is always on time at her stop, always walks at the same speed down the aisle, and always sits in the same seat a couple of rows back on the passenger side of the bus (or nearby if taken). Watching Grandma Sycamore get on the bus is like deja vu every day - except her knitted clothing changes colors from green to pink. She has curly helmet hair, rosy cheeks, and carries a serene smile most of the time. I half-expect her to be carrying a tray of cookies every time she hops up onto the stairs.

There is something about Grandma Sycamore, however, which says "don't mess with this bread." I swear I've seen a little malevolent smile cross her lips occasionally when she spots some of the sketchier characters on the bus. She's warm, but will burn you if necessary.

Mostly, though, Grandma Sycamore brings a cheery and pleasant sense of calm to her fellow passengers. When Grandma Sycamore is on board, everything will be OK - and I'm sure it tastes better too!

Blue Mustache Man

2008-09-05T16:55:00.000-07:00

(I figured this post belonged in it's rightful place on this new blog dedicated solely to my thoughts and opinions - and the people on the bus - rather than on our other blog. So if you're reading this for the second time I apologize)

There are so many interesting characters that I've come across the last three years while I've been taking the bus to work, and no one gets to share in the experience except for those few people with whom I share an occasional story. Why should I have all the fun? If you take public transportation then you know exactly what I'm talking about. Look for future updates on the subject...

This time, however, I was inspired to blog about the guy from this morning with the mustache tattoo. Before you get the wrong idea in your head, let me dispel the first few images that come to mind:

1. No, the tattoo wasn't a small part of an otherwise inked-up body - he didn't have tattoos all over his head, for example - which would have detracted from (or added to - depending on your perspective) the simple amazement of the mustache. In fact, aside from just one other visible tattoo on his forearm, the mustachio was the only tattoo present.

2. It wasn't a life-like mustache either. No simulated individual hairs or coloring.

It was simply a thick, perfectly shaped mustache filled with regular tattoo-colored blue ink. It was the kind of mustache that you would draw on yourself for Halloween or a similar dress-up event. I pondered this for a moment as I took in Mr. Blue Mustache Tattoo's other defining characteristics trying to discern from his outward appearance what could have possibly driven him to tattoo a blue mustache on his face. He wasn't completely abnormal looking otherwise. He seemed of mixed Latino-Caucasian decent, probably mid-30s, short hair. He did have what I would deem as slightly odd clothes, however. A black bowler hat, red t-shirt with strange insignia, black pants, and he was carrying a hard-sided case of some sort, like a mini Samsonite suitcase...then I realized it was beyond my capabilities to rationalize this decision and gave up. Maybe you can do better.

Mr. Know-It-All, The Eccentric

2008-09-03T15:14:00.000-07:00

This is a tribute to the person who inspired this blog long ago, back before we moved from the apartment we used to live in and I started taking a different bus. I haven't seen Mr. Know-It-All very often since then. I'll occasionally spot him at my stop downtown before I go home in the evening, but never again will I have the singular experience of keeping my eyes averted from his in hopes that he doesn't strike up a conversation with me. More on that later, but first we need a good working description.

Mr. Know-It-All is a white male in his early to mid twenties. He is average height, but probably forty pounds overweight. His usual attire consists of dark tennis shoes, dark pants, and a dirty, gray t-shirt stretched too tight over his bulging midsection. He often wears sunglasses and is just as often very sweaty. He has relatively short, curly, dirty-blond hair that is ALWAYS covered by a "pork pie" hat. If you don't know what that is, then see below. I had to look up what kind of hat it was too.

I would define him as a little eccentric, I think. Wikipedia (the best source of credible information) has this to say about Eccentricity.

Eccentricity is often associated with genius, giftedness, or creativity. The individual's eccentric behavior is perceived to be the outward expression of his or her unique intelligence or creative impulse. In this vein, the eccentric's habits are incomprehensible not because they are illogical or the result of madness, but because they stem from a mind so original that it cannot be conformed to societal norms.

I don't know what it is that motivates eccentrics to wear these types of hats (see: Blue Mustache Man), but if you find yourself wearing one anytime soon keep in mind that you might have slipped away from some "societal norms" - if that's important to you. Anyway, back to Mr. Know-It-All...

Despite his physical appearance he is very articulate ("genius?" " gifted?") - even if he cannot speak without leaving his counterpart incredibly uncomfortable, but we'll get to that in a second.

As far as I can tell, Mr. Know-It-All is a vagabond. It's probably not true, but that's what I can infer from his bus-riding habits. We used to ride the same bus three or four times a week. Sometimes he would already be on the bus when I got on at my usual stop. Sometimes he would be at my stop waiting. Sometimes he would get on after me. This all made it very difficult for me to pinpoint where he might be coming from, especially since I never actually witnessed him walking to the stop from any given direction. It seemed that he was always there. I suppose I could have asked him where he lived, but I admittedly like the idea of not knowing too much about most of these strangers I'm inextricably connected to on a daily basis, and really wanted to avoid communicating with him at all costs (see above).

While riding the same bus as Mr. Know-It-All, I had the awkward displeasure on several occasions of witnessing his method of stalking unsuspecting bus passengers and beginning conversations which, A. had no real direction or real end, and B. mostly involved Mr. Know-It-All giving express opinions on various subjects while the other person tried desperately to figure out how to end said conversation.

Let me demonstrate with a short story which represents the one and only time that I became the unwitting prey of our subject and not just an innocent observer (cue the violins)...

One hot summer afternoon (I was working a swing shift at the time and didn't leave for work until about noon), Mr. Know-It-All was at my stop when I arrived. No one else was there. As we stood waiting together in the sun - me in my sunglasses and he in his sunglasses and "pork pie" hat - I often peered anxiously down the street, hoping the bus would soon appear, trying to seem disinterested with anything else but the pending arrival of the bus.

Mr Know-It-All must have perceived my obvious attempts not to engage in any form of communication, and before the bus approached, he turned to me (almost in what seemed like slow motion) and said something to the effect of "It's hot today. I'm sweating just standing here."

An innocent enough statement, but I had seen his technique before, and was trying to do my best to not let myself be his next victim. I responded with a simple "Yep, it's sure hot," or something like that. But then came a new query which left me paralyzed.

"But I'll be sweating a lot more once we get into the air conditioning on the bus."

Do I respond to this? Should I just agree and let him assume I know exactly what he's talking about? Without thinking, and like so many animals lured by curiosity into the clutches of a waiting predator, I asked, "What do you mean?"

"Once I start cooling off, my pores will begin to close and push even more sweat out," came the paradoxical reply. (I didn't know if that was really true, but I guessed it could have been. That's part of the mystique of people like Mr. Know-It-All)

The bus came soon thereafter, and I prematurely thought that I had gotten off easily, but as we stepped on to the usually scantly-occupied bus, the only available seats were clumped together at the front. I sat down across the aisle from Mr. Know-It-All, and tried to focus on the pretty trees and shiny cars as they passed by my window. It was only a few seconds after we sat down, though, that Mr. Know-It-All resumed our conversation.

"Are you an alien?"

What? I was hoping that perhaps he had set his sites on another victim, but to my dismay I found Mr. Know-It-All's eyes underneath his "pork pie" hat, sunglasses off, fixated on me.

"Please make it stop," I thought to myself. But I knew that was no longer my decision to make. The most I could hope to do was to finish the conversation. The bus ride only lasted so long right? Right?

"An alien?" I responded casually, as if this were a question I received daily.

Then came Mr. Know-It-All's irrefutable pronouncement upon me, which fortunately ended our conversation - and my misery.

"Yes. You have big, black eyes (referring to my sunglasses, which I was still wearing), and you know nothing about human sweat."

The individual's eccentric behavior is ... the outward expression of his or her unique intelligence...

Yes, Mr. Know-It-All. I'm an alien.