I've often thought that having the ability to take a bus in stormy weather was a godsend. I wouldn't have to contend with dangerous, treacherous road conditions, the inevitable slipping and sliding, helplessly sitting still, wasting gas, instead of moving.
I haven't had the need to take the bus for some time simply because the winter weather had been holding up pretty well this season. An unexpected, fast moving storm blew into the North East and furiously dropped twenty-nine inches of heavy wet snow over a period of just under twelve hours.
You can imagine the horrifying situation. Cars were abandoned on every major thoroughfare and just about every secondary road as well. Falling snow, treacherous sheets of ice, howling whipping winds creating quite a dreadful prospect. The roads were blanketed with no less than three to four inches of slush, the end result of the countless swipes made by the despised, yet very necessary, motorized shovel, the snowplow.
Massive, expertly maneuvered plows can clear a country road with one single pass. That snow, the gigantic boulders of ice, is seditiously spit right back into each and every driveway that with great distress and backbreaking pain had previously been hand shoveled to its former pristine condition.
Standing at the end of your driveway with the last shovel full of snow in hand you hear the monster roaring in the distance, callously warning you of its impending attack. Looking out into the street you see the fire breathing demon quickly approaching, helplessly standing by realizing you're about to get screwed.
The unsympathetic callous mammoth, jaws open wide, cruelly spits all that snow back into each and every clean driveway along it's vicious path. There's every reason to believe that obvious declaration of war will provoke a rebellion that will incite every once law abiding citizen, countless hordes of malicious rabble risers to take to their trusty soap box, instigating people to rebel and damn the authority of the state municipality that sent the trucks out in the first place. It could get downright terrifying.
Unfortunately, I realized I needed to make a trip to the market for some necessities. Knowing my driveway was in fact blocked and the snow had most likely turned into an almost solid block of ice, I opted for the safer, less physically demanding, considering the road and weather conditions, readily available mode of transportation, the bus.
Public transportation riders are an exceptional and interesting group. You have the youth, who probably don't have the luxury of a driver's license or simply don't have a car. Mix in the people who had a license at one time but for various reasons lost that privilege or their car is in for costly repairs.
The largest group seems to be the elderly, senior citizens. Men and women who no longer feel safe driving or their families decided it was time to take them off the road, willingly or not. Many of the senior travelers have medical problems, poor hearing, limited sight, mobility limitations. There are those who never drove or in some cases really enjoy riding the bus. I suppose if you're stuck at home, often alone, a short trip in the midst of fellow riders is a pleasant diversion.
Add to the list the occasional traveler, such as myself. The driver has to contend with the inexperienced rider not having the correct fare, not pulling the cord for their stop, a myriad of ineptitude's. I would suspect by the end of a drivers shift, the need for a stiff drink and some serious quiet time would most definitely be in order.
I was very fortunate; the bus runs on a rural schedule, meaning all you have to do is wave it down to be picked up. The route the bus runs on was a mere quarter mile from my front door, or the equivalent of perhaps five city blocks. I'm a dedicated walker, getting up each morning, weather permitting, and walk a three-mile stretch which aides in keeping mind and body in fairly good shape. I simply plug my MP3 headphones into my ears, turn the volume up and lose myself in the music. I thoroughly enjoy the feeling of getting close to nature. It's a pleasant frame of mind and I really do appreciate the bounty mother nature has seen fit to grace our lives with. Each season has its own special features. The spring is filled with new life and new growth, taking the gray winter from dark and dismal to spectacular sound and color. Thankfully, Spring was almost here, but not quite yet.
The prospect of trudging through a quarter mile of snow and slushy ice had its drawbacks. However, understanding that if I didn't make that pilgrimage, I would have to forego my usual habits of a hot bubble bath in the evening, I ran out of bubble stuff, a glass of sherry after dinner, I finished the last glass watching the snow fall, pretty much made it impossible not to make the trip.
Dressed in the appropriate snow apparel and having previously checked the bus schedule I left the warmth and comfort of my home and had about fifteen minutes to get to the bus route. It wasn't pleasant walking through the snow and ice, it was horrible! I managed to stay upright just barely. There were a few slips and slides that I was sure were going to take me down. Nonetheless, in about ten minutes I was standing at the bus stop, praying it would arrive on time. Glancing at my cell phone I saw that I still had a few minutes to wait and the wind was picking up. I was already tired and now getting cold, this absolutely stunk, big time.
There were three or four people anxiously looking up the road waiting to see the bus coming down the hill, knowing it would be here in about a minute. Sure enough, there it was, and in less than three minutes we were all aboard, fare paid sitting in a warm seat, enjoying the ride.
Each one of us was heading to the local shopping center or desired destination, wherever our intended stop was, smiling and feeling grateful I would hope for the driver taking responsibility to safely take us to our desired location. Because this is a rural service you simply had to signal the driver and your and arrival to your destination was guaranteed.
We were about a mile or so down the road, the bus began to slow down, no doubt to pick up yet another rider. The bus was crowded, or at least to me it appeared to be. All of the passengers were seated when we came to a halt and the doors swung open, inviting the next person to come on in, pay the fare and take a seat.
An elderly man, kind of bent over, a well-worn cane steadying his gait, stepped up, paid his fare and looked down the aisle for the closest possible seat. I'm sure he was a frequent passenger and clearly knew that safety meant planting yourself in a seat ASAP, or run the risk of being jostled and jerked around while the bus was in motion. Looking up to the front of the bus it soon became clear that the seat next to me would be his first choice. Sure enough, he barely made it down the aisle before the bus once again got underway. And just as I thought, he sat down next to me.
Now, you all know my secret, not so secret, affection for older men, old men, dirty old men being my personal box of luscious decadent chocolate. I own it, I don't apologize for it and I embrace it.
There's a notable television psychologist who would certainly view me as a well-rounded woman (I am a very curvy well rounded woman) confidently in touch with her inner child. A healthy mind with a mature sense of responsibly. I would be deemed a clinically sound person. I know what fuels my passions and I accept it. I don't harbor a single doubt that the gentlemen who have graced my life would enthusiastically agree with that assessment.
I consider every opportunity to interact with an older man a gift, on many levels. Contrary to popular belief, older men are a cache of untapped pleasure. I'm not speaking solely of their sexual prowess. Older men with their years of experience traveling through this life can teach us all a thing or two about living.
Seizing each occasion, making the best of every chance encounter to do so that comes my way, I can seriously say, that I didn't have a single naughty thought in my mind when the man sat down next to me. I was concentrating on the bus ride and making sure I signaled the driver when my desired stop was approaching. My only thought was getting what I needed and getting home.
"It's a hell of day isn't it?"
The gentleman was speaking of the remnants of the snowstorm I surmised.
"Yes, it certainly has caused a few problems getting around, that's for sure." I couldn't very well be ill mannered and not respond to his statement.
"I haven't seen you on the bus before, new in town?"
I smiled, "No, I've lived here most of my adult life. My driveway was plowed in so I decided to take the bus to the market."
"Damn snow plows. My place is at the end of a cul de sac, it's a dumping ground for every damn flake that falls to the ground. By the time the plow has done its damage I have at least six feet of snow in my front yard, which covers most of the end of the pathway out my front door to the road. Luckily, a few kids came around early this morning offering to shovel me an access point. Jesus, I remember those days, leaving the house as soon as the ground was covered, making deals for a few bucks, or less to shovel driveways. Christ, I haven't shut up since I sat down."
He smiled and shook his head, in acknowledgement of his ongoing narrative as if to concede his rambling was in fact, nonstop.
"Well, thankfully you were able to get out."
