i know, i know.  i haven't been keeping up with the blog.  life beyond bus riding is busy.  i post when i am thoughtful about my experiences.  and so, this week has me thinking.  thinking about what, you may ask?  well, about social interactions, how people try to communicate, and the ability of people to cope with life's circumstances and taking a chance at something better than what they have.  i sit in my seat as a way to get to and from work.  basically, i want nothing more than that.  there have been people on the bus these past couple of weeks who seem to need more than that from me and themselves.  take brass monkey (previously known as injured guy) who tried to help his friend find out about her bf who was in the aci and who was calling alternate numbers for the aci on his cellphone to help her find some answers and locate the bf.  he also mentioned to those in hearing distance that if we needed adderall, he could get it.  he had taken a pill before boarding the bus, and even though he felt no difference (yet!), he wanted to let us know he could get some.  skip ahead one week, and the codac kid was willing to trade the pills he had for those the brass monkey could get courtesy of the chick who made his morning coffee (for a fee, of course!).  at the same time, brass monkey was complaining that his gf (who he has previously mentioned wanting to marry) was giving him a hard time about giving him the money for bus fare (to where?  codac!  go figure!).  the codac kid empathized with brass monkey ("yeah, bitches can be tough")  they both got off the bus at the same stop and the woman who goes to the methadone clinic each morning never took her eyes off of them as they stood on the side of the road and the 13 left the old spring loop stop.  hmmm... i thought.  what is she thinking?  and then there is germaine who got on in arctic on my way home and sat next to me even though there were MANY available solo seats.  he leaned against me (no curves even!) and asked if i was looking at pics of my kids when i was just checking out who was playing on my pandora playlist.  he said he knew i must be married (HA!), but went on to discuss his prowess with women and how making pancakes with fruit on top was his way of showing his ladies appreciation.  he was on his way to his sister's (he admitted he was not from coventry when i said he musn't be) to take a shower (??) and to watch her kids while he watched a laker's game.  we talked about millionaires.  he thinks all millionaires must be nice because he has seen some on tv.  he even said maybe he was a millionaire.  i said maybe i am!  he did not agree that there are probably no millionaires on the 13.  he complimented me on my outward appearance and told me he hoped my husband treated me well and appreciated me.  he went on to state that if anyone gave me trouble, i could just refer them to germaine; he would set them straight.  his last words to me as i exited the bus?  "god bless you, beautiful lady."  and then tonight, there was the toothless, elderly navy veteran who asked me the color of my coat (after asking me if i worked at the veteran's hospital cause i look like his primary care physician).  when i said pink, he said fuchsia, but liked pink because could i guess what movie he was thinking of that involved molly ringwald and the color pink.  "pretty in pink?", i guessed.  "YEP!  you sure look pretty in pink and i like your leg warmers and your whole outfit", he gushed.  (bert interrupted this interchange to ask, "is that old sailor bothering you, kris?")  he also wanted to know, as he looked at my boots, which sinatra song he was thinking of....  (GUESS!)  i had to exit at that point.  and then there was the make out couple in front of me.  making out and listening to rap music infused with the f and the n words until bert told them they needed headphones to listen on the bus....  right after that a girl got on with her eyes half closed, eating those cheese and crackers we used to bring in our lunch boxes.  she knew the male counter part of the make out couple and introduced herself to the female counterpart of the make out couple.  they both mentioned just having had children in the past year.  they discussed the challenges of having their babies with them (they were proud to say their babies were with them) and being on methadone.  cheeses and crackers admitted to just having gotten high, but her baby was with a sitter.  they all seemed unaware that there were the rest of us on the bus as they chatted about such personal things.  tom moved up next to me and started to make fun of them and i felt uncomfortable.  so i changed the subject ("doing anything exciting this weekend, tom?")  i realized that even as i was silently judging, when tom so loudly judged, we had no right.  who are we to comment on how others make contact, establish relationships, reach out, live a life?  (i was worrying about their kids!  the methadone twins AND germaine's sister's kids...)  who are we to judge someone else's choices?  who are we to judge how someone else copes with shitty circumstances?  if we do, we must be willing to help.  or, at least, to listen and try to understand.  (on the 13, one is often in the unsolicited position of listening)  all of this is on my mind as i prepare a workshop on supporting social emotional development in young children for adults who work with preschoolers....

this was an emotional week on the 13.  well, for others and it became so for me in the listening.  it started with the angry mom who has a toddler and a giant, heavy stroller she always slings into the front baggage area (you better lean to your left if you are sitting next to it!)  i have witnessed her before: always stressed, dragging that little boy, reprimanding him to be quiet and SIT!  this time she pulled him into the sideways facing seats in the front of the bus.  another mother with a young girl sat opposite her.  at first, all seemed sweet; they chatted.  as the bus journey got under way, angry mom got on her cell phone.  soon she was yelling and then....  crying and yelling.  her little boy was looking more and more anxious and stressed as she went on with her conversation.  it became apparent that she has another child, a little girl.  she does not have custody due to the fact that her last boyfriend abused this child.  she had just "dragged her son out into the cold" for a supervised visit with her daughter and she just wants her back.  as she wailed, "what else can i do?  what can i do?!!!!  i won't ever have another boyfriend because of the last one!  isn't that GOOD enough?!!!", everyone else on the bus seemed frozen....  except for that mother across from her.  when i tore my eyes away from the back of angry mom's head, i realized that the other mom was singing.  she was singing "open shut them" over and over again.  the little boy was smiling and imitating the motions.  then she began to sing "twinkle twinkle little star", and he was smiling in his seat while his mom wailed and yelled and hurt.  my heart went out to both of those moms.  what made one forget about her little one in her pain and what made the other mindful of both little ones, knowing about pain and the need to distract those little ones from it?  my eyes stung with tears that someone tried to protect innocence.  and the next day....  morning on the 13 and a stop in arctic.  the girl who got on so thin and under dressed.  perhaps her shivering had more to do with her dire straits than with the cold?  she just wanted the money to travel to see her dad who was sick in nh.  not one of her friends would (could?) help.  in her desperation, she shouted about a promised blow job in return for help.  and i thought:  what is going on?  i felt as desperate in knowing that women often bargain themselves in their scramble to get what they need.  how could self respect ever become a commodity?  why should it?  how lucky i am to be able to form and ask and think about such a question.

so who decides what is "normal"?  who am I to decide that clipping one's horny fingernails on the bus is inappropriate?  who am i to pass judgement on someone who sneezes snot into the aisle?  who am i to feel annoyed and repulsed that someone is painting their nails and filling the bus with nail polish toxic fumes?  riding the bus has me thinking about boundaries.  who defines them?  polite society used to define what was okay and what was not.  polite society defined those boundaries.  what happened to polite society?  how do I, who believes in polite society,  exist in a bus world with others who do not know from polite society?  do they NOT KNOW?  maybe they just don't CARE.   i never had to think about these things when i drove my own car to work each and everyday.  now i have to think about these things.  is there a miss manners for bus riding?  help!

things have been status quo on the 13.  everyday people riding an everyday bus to everyday places.  i did learn this week, though, after i had pulled some ibuprofen out of my bag to take for my headache, that one can use pillfinder.com to id any pills one is given by anyone "because, well, ya just never know.  that could be cyanide you are taking."  when i mentioned that i had taken the pills straight from the bottle, i was told that we live in a socialist society (i was not sure how this had anything to do with anything) and i could be being fooled.  true, i thought, as i downed those oblong, bluish pills anyway.  there have been lots of drunk people on the bus lately; Hot Chocolate Lady being only one of them.  Blood in My Urine Guy! changed his seat to sit in front of me the other night.  Unfortunately, he did not look before he plopped down and so sat on the professional lady's laptop bag; something went CRUNCH.  she pulled it out from under him and strained to sit closer to the window.  he kept falling asleep on her and she kept nudging him off of her.  at one point she nudged him so severely that he almost fell off into the aisle, but he aroused and righted himself.  i was amazed when he woke up moments before his stop to reach around the back of the lady (she quickly sat up VERY straight) to pull the wire to signal the bus to stop.  bert told me ("i got one for ya!", he said when i got on at the end of my day) that he picked up a lady this week who boarded with a hockey bag and made her way to the back of the bus.  he noticed her talking to someone (although there was no one else on the bus at the time) as she read a book.  he had to stop for a wheel chair passenger and when he went back to the back door to let the person on, he noticed that the hockey bag lady was leaning over.  she had a papier mache head on the seat next to her.  when he asked her what it was?  she said it was her boyfriend.  a first for him.  today was the first time i experienced a bus breaking down.  we had to wait 20 minutes for a ripta mechanic to arrive to determine we needed another bus to pick us up.  more waiting.  as we picked up passengers on our way to providence they were pissed that they had had to wait for the bus.  no one seems to have any sympathy for a bus driver that has to deal with old buses.  i got to listen to a conversation about obamacare ("he is making us pay more for healthcare!") and gun control ("they can take guns away, but i can always get a gun.  you need one?")  yep.  everyday people riding an everyday bus to everyday places.

so we waited until the last possible moment to head to stop and shop...  andre had to work, i was baking, the tree needed attention....  so we finally went to gather last minute veggies and whatnot.  as i headed towards the produce aisle with my cart, who do i see standing in front of the apples?  guess.  ok, i'll tell you: cambodian guy.  there he stood, gazing at the apples with a couple of small packages in his arms.  i pulled my cart off to the side and stood next to him until he looked at me.  it took him only a second to say, "oh! my friend from the bus!".  i smiled; he leaned forward with his hand for a shake, but, i think i surprised him, i reached forward and pulled him into a hug (and was reminded at how small he is). it was such a surprise to see him there and i said so.  he replied that he could not find a job in minnesota.  it seems allstate insurance had nothing for him; he is going to go back "next year".  his in-law did, indeed, house him and even gave him the money to travel back to ri with enough "to go food shopping".  those 2 packages in his arms?  they were ballpark franks.  his plan is to head back there "next year" and he will try again to become an allstate agent.  he gave up his business here to give it a chance in minnesota; he could try again here if his friend would lease him office space and if he could rally up enough funds to buy another computer.  tax season IS just around the corner....  for now?  his ex took him back in (as a room mate just like before) and he has his ballpark franks for christmas dinner..  we parted in front of those apples; he did not buy any, but i noticed he looked at them one more time before he headed to the check out.    no matter what?  he keeps on going.  merry christmas, cambodian guy.

As I noted earlier today on Facebook...  Perpetual Motion Man began making hand motions like he was conducting an invisible orchestra and moving his arms like he was beckoning us all to come listen to the concert...  There were some who moved away from him, switching their seats.  His motions began when the 13 ground to a halt, stuck in traffic on Rt. 37.  His motioning became more frantic.  The longer we sat, he started laughing, "Heh, heh.  Hee HEE!"  More people changed seats.  At one point he rolled his eyes upward, making eye contact with me (I was sitting above him).  I smiled, trying to convey kindness and understanding.  (Was I successful???)  At that point, I had a feeling he was feeling anxious, but I did not know what to do.  I have ridden the 13 with him so many times, and have always kept an eye on him even though he has only ever made motions.  I have ridden the 13 with many others who I keep an eye on....  We are all on a moving tube.  What would we do if any one person SNAPPED?  We are all capable of snapping, I think.  Since Friday, we all still get on that moving tube; there are still those who get on who behave in ways that are outside the norm of public, social behavior.  We board with faith.  We board thinking we can just change seats.  I am here thinking about connecting.  Can I just go beyond smiling in what I hope is an understanding way?  Should I?  Will I change my seat to move TOWARDS Perpetual Motion Man next time?  Would that even make the difference, a connection?  

I actually drove a car yesterday.  It was the first time in well over 2 weeks and it felt great to be behind a wheel.  I was listening to The Moth on WGBH; I love this program!  Each week, some person tells a story, a story that really happened in their lives.  This week a guy spoke about being ship wrecked and having to trek through hot sun and challenging terrain, drinking his own pee when he had hardly any water left, and thinking about his life thus far: wasted on drinking and drugs and neglecting his responsibilities to his friends; he desperately wanted to make up for all of that by making it to civilization so he could rescue the others in his party....  I was alone in the car as I listened, yet felt like I was, all of sudden, on the bus and listening to my fellow passengers.  Anyway, check out The Moth Saturdays at 2 on WGBH (89.7) on your radio.  You will not be disappointed.