This is the culture you're raising your kids in. Don't be surprised if it blows up in your face. -Marilyn Manson
Age does not make us childish, as some say; it finds us true children. -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The bus leaving Denver was going to be full, there was no avoiding that. Summer is, naturally, the most common time of year for people to travel; and while I managed to get a good place in the line because I took my spot at the font nearly an hour before anyone would normally line up -- a full two hours before the bus was scheduled to leave at 7:05 that evening -- I fully expected to have to sit next to another person. My scruffy looks tend to frighten people off until the bus fills up and some poor soul is left no choice but to take the aisle seat next to me. This usually means I get to sit next to someone similarly scruffy, sometimes, smelly, who, unlike me, was not quick-witted enough to get a place in the front of the line. I have learned not to take it TOO personally that the seat next to me is almost always the last one on the bus to fill up, even when I've just had a bath and my laundry is clean. And in many cases, being thoroughly avoided does make for more comfortable traveling...
Little Man didn't look like a cryer, though. And while I was not happy about having to sit next to someone... after I was hoping that maybe I didn't have to (That's what I get for hoping!) I figured that someone who didn't take up a lot of space.. he could, in fact, curl up into a near ball in the seat he had a mind to... wouldn't be all that bad. I just hoped his mother was somewhere near in case the crying and puking began.
I was settling in, getting ready to read Rumi until daylight quit.
"What is that?" He was clearly talking to me, pointing up at the reading light.
"It's a light, I said, friendly, informative, but still..."
"Turn it on!"
I reached up and turned it on. He looked up at the light briefly.
"Ok," he said. "Turn it off."
I reached up and turned it off, wondering whether this would be what the entire ride would be like.
Little Man pointed up at the circular air vent next to the reading light. "What's that?"
I told him.
"I want some air!"
Take a deep breath. He's only a kid. And, in comparison to the people around me, he wasn't bad. Actually, he stood out as the night went on as the one of the better passengers around me.
In front of me there was the ghetto diva in front of me who leaned her seat all the way back even when she wasn't asleep and her seatmate the Black Nationalist who eventually mistook me for black. Yes. Really. I guess Pasty white blue eyed dude with wool like beard = equals pale black. Good to know. Guess I can try for that Black Panther membership. Then there were the two guys behind me... one a long haul trucker riding back to his rig and the down on his luck kid who was riding the bus to go to a job with no clothes, no gear, not even a jacket and who stumbled on the loquacious truck driver and became his travel companion / insult target. They traded jabs and near fights all the way to Kansas City.
But since none of that happened yet... I was determined to start the trip off establishing a basic understanding of traveler's etiquette... understanding that since he was a kid, he didn't know any better.
"Can you say please?"
Little Man paused. "Please."
Not phrased as a question, but you have to start somewhere. I reached up and opened the air vent, making sure to show him how it worked. He was too short to reach it while seated, but I thought the bit of information might stave off some bit of his curiosity.
As the bus pulled out he asked me where I was going.
"Minneapolis," I said.
"I'm going to Florida."
"Cool."
"Who you going with?"
"No one," I said. "I'm traveling alone." I pointed behind us with my right thumb. "Your mom back there somewhere ( I hope)?"
"Yeah," he pointed behind his shoulder. Mom was starting to pass out with another kid in the window seat next to her, who was already asleep. She looked exhausted, even with the excessive make-up and drawn in eyebrows. Not long after we were on the road, Little Man woke his mom up and asked to talk to Dad. She gave him the phone. Dad was the destination, Florida the geography. Little Man lied about getting a window seat, and said he was comfortable and that he was on his way.
I kept reading Rumi, sometimes looked out the window to catch a glimpse of downtown Denver. As we rolled out of the city, I thought about how I was reading the conclusion of this jaunt, about my life since January. Nearly half a year, more or less, on the road. I was looking forward to seeing my friends Dave and Jamie again. I was looking forward to a short respite, putting together my trip back out to Colorado to interview my uncle, and then south to winter on a beach in Port Charlotte. I was a little road weary, but worried that I would not be able to stay off the road long. I still had my bus pass and my driver's license.
"How long are you going to read that..." Little Man was looking at the back cover my my edition of The Essential Rumi ".. that bible?"
"Huh?"
He must've taken hid cue from some of meant to look ornate and middle-eastern font on the back cover. He revised his question on the repeat though, probably figuring out that it wasn't a bible. Still, I was amused.
"How long are you going to read?"
"Until it's too dark."
"Are you tired?"
"Nope."
"Me neither."
He let me read a few more minutes.
"Where are we going?"
I pointed forward. "That way."
"I know that," he said. "What's... the street address?"
I told him I didn't know for sure, but that my transfer point was in Kansas City. I was really hoping his next question was not going to be Are we there yet?
Eventually it got dark and Little Man fell asleep.He had trouble getting comfortable, and wasn't big enough to be able to recline his seat. At one point, he was leaning on me, asleep. At first, I tried to wake him, shake him off.
"Hey, Kid," I said. "I'm not a pillow. Hey."
He shifted temporarily, but it didn't last long. I let him be. Mom didn't seem to give a shit as long as Little Man left her alone. He wasn't really bothering me. And... he was quiet.
The obnoxious driver behind me... who had just narrowly avoided being punched by his kid companion for making a comment about not letting his masquera run... told me I was a nice man for letting the kid sleep on me.
He didn't wake up until we got to Kansas City, and then only because I shook him a bit to wake him up. I knew from past experience that he Kansas City Station would be unbelievably crowded, since it was built for a much small capacity than actually runs through it. I also knew I'd pretty much only have time to find my line and wait to board the bus to Des Moines, Iowa, the next transfer point. I was beginning to double back on myself.
There wasn't a chance to tell Little Man goodbye or even ask his name. Once Mom was awake grumpily dragged him and his slightly older brother along to the next line, the next bus that would take them to Florida, to their Dad. I thought of the various times my daughter's mother and I had to engage in the exchange... The Kid visiting, having to meet often in the middle when state lines were involved...though the distance tended to favor my ex's dislike for long distance driving. From her perspective, I suppose it was better that The Kid be grumpy with me... no doubt, in her mind, part of my penance for leaving when I got tired of dodging frying pans.
Thanks for reading. Remember, if you like what you're reading:
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CONSIDER A DONATION TO THE TRAVEL FUND. (Gawd Bless!)
Age does not make us childish, as some say; it finds us true children. -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 |
| Front of the line at Door 16. |
... though I will always give up the empty seat next to me if someone asks.
I choose to behave as if there is a certain etiquette when traveling, even if I end up sitting behind someone who has to put their seat all the way back even when I can't /don't/ would rather not. I do this for the same reason I don't shop at Wal-Mart. All lines being arbitrary -- because a lot of them are -- I'd try to live from what I consider an ethical standpoint. And for me, this means a certain amount of politeness on the road.
For a minute, though, as the bus was loading, I thought I might escape having to sit next to someone. Everyone seemed loaded,and there was no one next to me. I managed to get what I thought was a good seat, even though there were at least 10 people who got in ahead of me because they could afford the $5 for Priority Seating. (I was still operating off the same 19 cents.)
Then Little Man plopped down holding a backpack that clearly weighed almost as much as him.
He was 5, maybe 6 years old. I didn't remember him in the line, or getting on the bus. There were some kids int he line, of course. You ought to expect that when traveling in general, not to mention traveling by bus. It's one of those rules, especially on an overnight bus ride. There are always kids. And you might as well except the probability that at least one of them will cry. Luckily, Colorado Cousin Mary gave me some ear plugs... the kind most often used by gun enthusiasts and factory workers to keep from damaging their hearing. I fully expected to use them, since the ride from Las Vegas had been sleepless due to one motion sick little girl would would puke into a bag ... loudly, cry (understandably) and scream things like
"Mommy, let's get off this tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny, TINY bus! PLEASE!!"
The repetition of the word "tiny" was a nice touch.
Little Man didn't look like a cryer, though. And while I was not happy about having to sit next to someone... after I was hoping that maybe I didn't have to (That's what I get for hoping!) I figured that someone who didn't take up a lot of space.. he could, in fact, curl up into a near ball in the seat he had a mind to... wouldn't be all that bad. I just hoped his mother was somewhere near in case the crying and puking began.
I was settling in, getting ready to read Rumi until daylight quit.
"What is that?" He was clearly talking to me, pointing up at the reading light.
"It's a light, I said, friendly, informative, but still..."
"Turn it on!"
I reached up and turned it on. He looked up at the light briefly.
"Ok," he said. "Turn it off."
I reached up and turned it off, wondering whether this would be what the entire ride would be like.
Little Man pointed up at the circular air vent next to the reading light. "What's that?"
I told him.
"I want some air!"
Take a deep breath. He's only a kid. And, in comparison to the people around me, he wasn't bad. Actually, he stood out as the night went on as the one of the better passengers around me.
In front of me there was the ghetto diva in front of me who leaned her seat all the way back even when she wasn't asleep and her seatmate the Black Nationalist who eventually mistook me for black. Yes. Really. I guess Pasty white blue eyed dude with wool like beard = equals pale black. Good to know. Guess I can try for that Black Panther membership. Then there were the two guys behind me... one a long haul trucker riding back to his rig and the down on his luck kid who was riding the bus to go to a job with no clothes, no gear, not even a jacket and who stumbled on the loquacious truck driver and became his travel companion / insult target. They traded jabs and near fights all the way to Kansas City.
But since none of that happened yet... I was determined to start the trip off establishing a basic understanding of traveler's etiquette... understanding that since he was a kid, he didn't know any better.
"Can you say please?"
Little Man paused. "Please."
Not phrased as a question, but you have to start somewhere. I reached up and opened the air vent, making sure to show him how it worked. He was too short to reach it while seated, but I thought the bit of information might stave off some bit of his curiosity.
As the bus pulled out he asked me where I was going.
"Minneapolis," I said.
"I'm going to Florida."
"Cool."
"Who you going with?"
"No one," I said. "I'm traveling alone." I pointed behind us with my right thumb. "Your mom back there somewhere ( I hope)?"
"Yeah," he pointed behind his shoulder. Mom was starting to pass out with another kid in the window seat next to her, who was already asleep. She looked exhausted, even with the excessive make-up and drawn in eyebrows. Not long after we were on the road, Little Man woke his mom up and asked to talk to Dad. She gave him the phone. Dad was the destination, Florida the geography. Little Man lied about getting a window seat, and said he was comfortable and that he was on his way.
I kept reading Rumi, sometimes looked out the window to catch a glimpse of downtown Denver. As we rolled out of the city, I thought about how I was reading the conclusion of this jaunt, about my life since January. Nearly half a year, more or less, on the road. I was looking forward to seeing my friends Dave and Jamie again. I was looking forward to a short respite, putting together my trip back out to Colorado to interview my uncle, and then south to winter on a beach in Port Charlotte. I was a little road weary, but worried that I would not be able to stay off the road long. I still had my bus pass and my driver's license.
"How long are you going to read that..." Little Man was looking at the back cover my my edition of The Essential Rumi ".. that bible?"
"Huh?"
He must've taken hid cue from some of meant to look ornate and middle-eastern font on the back cover. He revised his question on the repeat though, probably figuring out that it wasn't a bible. Still, I was amused.
"How long are you going to read?"
"Until it's too dark."
"Are you tired?"
"Nope."
"Me neither."
He let me read a few more minutes.
"Where are we going?"
I pointed forward. "That way."
"I know that," he said. "What's... the street address?"
I told him I didn't know for sure, but that my transfer point was in Kansas City. I was really hoping his next question was not going to be Are we there yet?
Eventually it got dark and Little Man fell asleep.He had trouble getting comfortable, and wasn't big enough to be able to recline his seat. At one point, he was leaning on me, asleep. At first, I tried to wake him, shake him off.
"Hey, Kid," I said. "I'm not a pillow. Hey."
He shifted temporarily, but it didn't last long. I let him be. Mom didn't seem to give a shit as long as Little Man left her alone. He wasn't really bothering me. And... he was quiet.
The obnoxious driver behind me... who had just narrowly avoided being punched by his kid companion for making a comment about not letting his masquera run... told me I was a nice man for letting the kid sleep on me.
He didn't wake up until we got to Kansas City, and then only because I shook him a bit to wake him up. I knew from past experience that he Kansas City Station would be unbelievably crowded, since it was built for a much small capacity than actually runs through it. I also knew I'd pretty much only have time to find my line and wait to board the bus to Des Moines, Iowa, the next transfer point. I was beginning to double back on myself.
There wasn't a chance to tell Little Man goodbye or even ask his name. Once Mom was awake grumpily dragged him and his slightly older brother along to the next line, the next bus that would take them to Florida, to their Dad. I thought of the various times my daughter's mother and I had to engage in the exchange... The Kid visiting, having to meet often in the middle when state lines were involved...though the distance tended to favor my ex's dislike for long distance driving. From her perspective, I suppose it was better that The Kid be grumpy with me... no doubt, in her mind, part of my penance for leaving when I got tired of dodging frying pans.
Thanks for reading. Remember, if you like what you're reading:
SHARE THE LINK, and
CONSIDER A DONATION TO THE TRAVEL FUND. (Gawd Bless!)