The Wheels on the Bus.....

When I was 16 or so I went on a school-sponsored trip to Denver for a DECA Conference. To those of you not familiar with the wonder that is the world of DECA, it is a national marketing organization for high school students. In other words, it is a forum for geeky over-achievers to write essays and compete in academic events for fun in their free time….and no, I never claimed to be much of a winner during my formative years.

During the aforementioned trip to Denver, I joined some friends to do some shopping along the 16th Street Mall in downtown Denver. In the midst of our shopping we decided to hop on a passing street car; as we were all from Phoenix, any form of public transportation was really kind of a novelty and deserved proper exploration. As there were about 3000 kids in downtown Denver for the DECA Conference, the streets were packed and so was our street car. We piled in like sardines which made the ride uncomfortable at best. Just to make things more interesting, there were very few poles to hold onto, so I found strangers holding onto me so they didn’t fall over. There was one man in particular with his hand on my shoulder (I would have guessed that he was homeless, but back in my youth I actually made an attempt to not be judgmental, so I cannot say for sure) – anyway, I feel something poking me from behind (in my lower back to be exact). Being 16, I of course lean forward and whisper this to my friends and we all start to giggle; however, the thing poking me then began to move – without being too vulgar, it moved in a fashion that was highly inappropriate for an innocent 16 year old girl to be experiencing. To those of you that may not be following me, the homeless man was dry humping me from behind in the crowded street car. Seconds later, a the car stopped and I ran out as fast as my legs would take me…..thank goodness my legs are long and I made good time getting out of there.

Needless to say, this experience scarred me and I swore off any form of public transportation from that point on. After moving to DC I warmed up to the idea of taking the Metro – it’s clean, well lit, and generally not too crowded (assuming you avoid rush hour). After nearly two years in the District, I finally broke down and took a ride on the Circulator (a cleaner, more civilized version of a traditional city bus that travels along K Street and into Georgetown). In 8 months or so of riding the Circulator on occasion, I am yet to have any encounter that rivals that of the Denver debacle, however, I have certainly seen my fair share of loony old women talking to themselves. I have even been known to take a ride during rush hour just for kicks – the people watching is some of the best around.

One of my favorites is the 40-something guy that that chats up all the young ladies by asking what they are reading. (Isn’t it obvious that someone is not interested in talking to a stranger when their nose is stuck in a book?) The girl will generally garner a polite response and attempt to focus back on her novel of choice – the man will then take that as his cue to start asking about her boyfriend and why he would let “such a pretty young thing” alone on a bus where the men are surely all over her. Somehow it is lost on me where an old man ever gets the idea that a girl will actually be taken by his cheap come-on and offer him her number. It kind of reminds me of the morons that yell out of their car windows asking passing girls to get in for a ride . . . . what girl does that? (The hookers on the corner don’t count.)

Next we have the out-of-towners. Generally from the Mid-West, this family will start out by asking you if you’re from DC….if the answer is no, they will find someone else to talk to. Once they find their targeted local, it’s like 20 Questions…many of which are surprisingly personal. What I really love are the responses by the locals. The out-of-towner will ask something like “tell me what the best restaurant in Georgetown is” and the local will answer by recommending something like The Guards. The Guards is much like Johnny Rockets in menu selection, except it is filled with smoke, drunken degenerates, and there is not any Fats Domino playing on the Juke Box….not exactly a DC hotspot if you know what I mean.

Finally, there is the 20-something girl on her cell phone. “oh my gawd…we got so wasted last night” and “can you believe she went home with him?!” are some of the more common topics blared into her phone and subsequently overheard by the entire bus. While I try to tell myself that the girl is just hard of hearing (hence, the yelling) and that I should really feel sorry for her, I am quickly snapped back into reality as she begins to discuss her sexcapades with the hot bouncer from the night prior. Really? He wasn’t as big as you had hoped? So sad to hear, better luck next time cupcake.