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.

I saw her again.  Who IS she and how does she manage to haul those babies on a bus each day?  Where does she go?  Today she was ready for the fare, but she still clutched those babies tight.  So, I have decided to repost my first impression.  (btw, I have since renamed Injured Guy...  Based on subsequent rides, he is now Brass Monkey)

She is tiny. She struggled to hold those 2 babies in her arms and board the bus. She looked relieved when she deposited them, stacked, on the first seat she came upon. She sat, one hand on the baby stack and the other fumbling around in her purse for the fare. The Injured Guy, on his way to the hospital, grimaced as he fished into his coat pocket. He found his bus pass. He stood up slowly, reached forward and swiped it. She looked up, puzzled. He smiled and slowly sat back down. She took her hand out of her purse and lifted a baby from atop the stack, put it on her lap. She pulled a bottle of milk from the stack, too. Now everyone is settled....

The bus was a full 5 minutes early this morning.  That never happens.  I noticed, through the window that Drunk Guy was in his usual front side facing seat by the door; he usually gets off where I was getting on today, so I waited for him to exit.  The driver waved me on and so I boarded.  As I began to head back to my seat, Drunk Guy all of a sudden popped up and said, "OH!  This is where I get off!"  We all laughed and said goodbye.  The bus headed on down South Main Street.  All of a sudden the driver (a newbie) asks what time it is.  The other passenger and I looked up from our books, and I slid one earphone off my head...  "9", we both said.  It was discovered that the driver had misread the time when he left his first stop and so we soon found ourselves sitting outside The Village Pub for the next 10 minutes until time had caught up to the bus.  We continued on our way.  Lots of people got on throughout WW and we headed into Garden City.  I was listening to my Kundalini Yoga Station and attempting to burn through some more of that final book in that horribly written series that has had everyone panting for months (I have begun to skip entire passages and notice that my eyes are continually rolling at each and every redundant sigh, murmur, and whisper).  As we headed out of Garden City and entered the on ramp to 95, I sensed motion in the aisle.  When I looked up, there was a guy standing there; he held a bulky jacket, a back pack, and a to go coffee mug with no lid and he was saying something as he looked at me.  I pulled off one earphone (the same one as earlier) and....
Guy:  Can I sit here?  I wanna see where I am going.
Me:  Sure.  (I hoist my bag into my lap)
Guy:  Do you know where Arctic Center is?  (his open coffee mug tilted dangerously in my direction as he sat down)
Me:  (turning to glance towards the back of the bus and 95 South unravelling behind us) It was back there.  We already went there.  This bus is heading to Kennedy Plaza.
Guy: (looking back, too, then down at his lap and adjusting his coffee mug) I got on the bus in Kennedy Plaza.  I musta nevah got off.
Me: (mentally making a plan for if and when he spilled that coffee on me and suddenly realizing that I saw this Guy get on the bus somewhere in WW, but I do not mention that) Well, I got on the bus in Coventry and you were not on it.
Guy: (stares at me) I just moved to Arctic and I'm not familiar with the area.
Me: (stares back)
Guy: (shifts in his seat and drops his cellphone in the open mug of coffee)
Me: (shifts towards the window)
Guy: (pulls dripping phone outta the mug and uses his jacket to wipe it off)  This is the last upgrade I can get on this phone...
Me: You could try putting it in rice to absorb the moisture..
Guy:  I could put it in mice, really?
Me:  RICE.  You could set it in some RICE if you have some.
Guy: Well, I guess I know what I will be doing tonight.
Me: (thinks, if you actually arrive at your destination) Yep. (decides to get off at the first stop downtown.)  This is my stop.  Good luck with your cellphone and good luck finding Arctic Center.
Guy: (turns to the side so I can get out of the seat) I guess I am gonna be late getting there....

It has been quiet on the evening 13.  (Well, not last night when that young mom kept bitching at her 2 year old to, "Sit down.  You better learn to be patient.  I said NO!!!!  MIKEY!!!!!!") There has been no more, "Oh!  Hello, my friend!", since Cambodian Guy finally made the decision to leave RI.  He held on for as long as he could, trying to give his tax/insurance company a go.  His long term plan was to hang in here so that he could make enough money to get back to Cambodia.  His harrowing escape from that country in the early 90's had been filled with the promise of what it must be like to live in America: the land of plenty where dreams come true.  In the end, his dreams were unfulfilled.  He lived each day in bitter disappointment and poverty.  So he rode the bus to and fro each day and only found enjoyment in talking with those of us who rode the bus with him.  He recently discovered pleasure and relief in that preacher guy who does his thing at Kennedy Plaza.  Cambodian Guy was always so eager to talk about what he had heard, but no one wanted to listen.  Including me.  He had been searching the Internet for jobs in other parts of the country: Alaska, Colorado, California; embassy jobs in Cambodia.  He always came up empty.  Then he learned that his ex-sister in law lives in Minnesota.  He searched for jobs and still came up empty.  His disappointment sometimes made him seem despondent.  He could only dream of going back to Cambodia to find a "pretty girl" he could live the rest of his years out with, in happiness and plenty(one can hire a maid for 40 bucks a month in Cambodia!).  I got on the bus 2 weeks ago only to find out that the day before had been Cambodian Guy's last journey on the 13.  He finally made the decision to leave RI for Minnesota even though he was not sure of a job nor a place to stay with his ex relative.  Tom told me that he had tears in his eyes when he told of leaving; he wanted Tom to be sure to tell me he had said goodbye.  I remembered the times I just wanted to spend my bus ride in quiet and so put my headphones on even though I knew Cambodian Guy wanted company....  I miss him.  I hope that he finds what he is looking for: a good job, a home, companionship; a ticket back to Cambodia.  It is what we all deserve in this life: a little bit of happiness.

Olfactory Overload would describe today's bus ride both in and out of Prov.  Good Lord, people!  This AM the smells consisted of body odor, ancient Avon roller ball perfume, cheap cologne, and just plain FUNK.  I found myself wondering about a person's personal awareness of how they smell to others....  Believe me, I know immediately when my organic deodorant has worn off.  I try to minimize movement so as to minimize The Waft Factor.  Ok, I realize that there are those less fortunate who cannot even afford deodorant or do not have access to a shower on a daily basis.  But the perfume/cologne?  Believe it or not, not everyone is as delighted by that scent as you are.  Please go easy when applying.

This evening the overwhelming odor was mixed....  Liquor and vomit.  Not a pleasant scent.  I actually thought it was coming from the dusty guy in front of me, but when I was able to change seats I saw the guy who was sitting...  Well, slumped, in the seat behind me.  It was coming from him.  I had to pull that bag of coffee I bought this AM outta my bag and hold it under my nose.  It did the trick!  Tom and I began a discussion about Bus Smells and his trick is to rub Vicks under his nose so he can make it to his destination without retching.  Good to know.

As we wound our way into West Warwick, a woman in the front of the bus who had been glancing back at Slumped Guy, got up and slipped into the seat I had vacated.  She reached back and jiggled Slumped Guy.  "Hey.  Hey.  HEY!  Wake up, Sleeping Beauty."  Slumped Guy stirred and grunted.  "We are probably near your destination," she said.  He looked up.  "Are we at the Sam store?", he mumbled.  "Almost", she answered.  He slumped once more.  Soon she reached up and pulled the cord.  We were at the Sam store and she jiggled him once more.  "We are here," she said.  Slumped Guy shifted and looked up.  "Is this my stop?", he slurred.  "You said it was," she answered brightly and he thanked her.  "No worries", she said.  I thought, how kind.  How kind she was in comparison to me.  I was just thinking I should move again so that he wouldn't blow gears all over me.

So, I felt ashamed.  I wanted to be as kind.  There was a young couple with many bags at the front of the bus; they looked tired and like they had not had a shower in awhile.  Bert was telling them that he could drop them at the Cumby's in Coventry, but they would have to walk to the Super 8; a walk of at least 2 miles in the cold and dark.  I approached them and offered them a ride.  Come to find out, the girl is pregnant and feeling unwell.  They were delighted and accepted my offer.  John and Ariel.  Two young kids with another kid on the way.  I felt better, but was reminded.  Kindness is what
matters.  No matter how smelly.

When I first started taking the bus, I was in a state of semi panic.  How could I figure out the schedule?  Where ARE all of the stops?  DOES the bus ACTUALLY stop EIGHTY ONE times on the way to Prov?  What do I do if I miss the bus?  Well, this blogging thing is similar to that state of semi panic.  Why can I never remember my password?  ow do I get back to the damn blog to begin with?  Ah, but here I am.  I made it here this morning....  When I actually should be packing up so I can make it to the 9:04.

I am seriously hoping that Elderly Poodle Lady does not sit next to me again this AM.  I really felt awkward the other day when she whipped Fifty Shades Freed outta her Price Rite bag.  Come to think of it, the poodle looked embarrassed, too.

I had been posting my rides on Facebook for quite awhile before making the decision to create a blog.  I made a last post on FB on Friday with this blog in mind.  For those of you who already read this one, give me a pass.  I want this one here.  Perpetual Motion Man intrigues me and he belongs here.

i have seen you before. you sit in the same seat each ride just on the opposite side of the aisle from where i always sit. within moments of sitting, it will begin. the sequence of movements is always the same: your arms float up, then down; your palms lie flat on your thighs, but only for a moment before they drift up to rub your face. now they run over your hair, just twice, and then your ha

nds grip the bar of the seat in front of you. every so often you break this ritual of perpetual replay by standing up; you take your hands off the seat in front of you to thrust them deep into the pockets of your jeans and you sit back down after extracting what you were seeking. the last time you had a tube of some type of cream that you squirted onto your finger and then applied deep into each nostril. today you popped something into your mouth... candy? a pill? who are you, Perpetual Motion Man? why can you not stop moving?

The Launch

This is a blog about a bus and those who ride it to get where they need to go each day.  Bus 13, to be precise.  The 13 and its inhabitants came into my life over a year ago when I needed transportation to work in Providence.  Riding the bus and figuring out the schedule and the right place to show up to get picked up had always seemed too complicated and overwhelming to figure out, but I took a deep breath because I had no car.  I now have a car, but the 13 has a hold on me.  I can't stop riding it.  I can't stop observing my fellow Riders and wondering who they are and how they got to the places in their lives that brought them to the 13.  Since today is Sunday, there is no bus service.  I wonder what those without any type of transportation other than the Bus do on a day like today?  It is my hope that I can keep up with this blog and capture a segment of the population that is often overlooked and misunderstood.  So.  Let The Bus Blog Begin.