Adventures in Public Transit #1

Being a responsible, and cheap, urbanite I am an avid user of the RTD bus system. There is a stop one block from my house that takes me 2 blocks away from work, and I get to read and blast my headphones. Denver is not a public transportation city, no matter how many awards RTD seems to receive. Middle class Denverites by and large avoid the bus, leaving me as something of an outsider in the bus population. One thing the bus provides in abundance are interesting people and situations, which brings me to the story I want to share with you.

Earlier this week as the bus pulled up to the stop outside the Safeway in Five Points a man boarded the bus. He was tall, unkempt with a faded blue windbreaker, similarly faded black jeans and a hat on backwards that said "New York" in a lanky gothic font. As he made his way up the steps onto the bus, his last step that would have put him on the level floor didn’t quite hit the mark and he stumbled a bit, which is what caught my attention. He steadied himself, with his left hand on a railing and his right hand just below his stomach on his belt buckle. I was taking bets inside my head: Was he drunk? Was he on drugs? Did he have some sort of medical condition? It was so nice of him to answer the question for me.

After an awkward pause the driver reminded that he had to pay before boarding. The man took his hand off his belt to reach into his back pocket, apparently forgetting that it was supporting a hidden bottle of beer. The bottle fell to the ground and erupted into a Vesuvius of foam, covering the floor and dripping down the steps. I should mention that I was wearing headphones, listening loudly to Coldplay so I couldn’t hear actual words.

As he reached down to pick up the bottle the driver spoke, “You can’t bring that on here” (Did I mention I can do my own subtitles?). The man didn’t reply, but picked up the bottle and chucked it, HARD, directly behind him without even so much as a courtesy glance to see if anyone would be bludgeoned. He finally fished his wallet out and flashed his bus pass before sitting down in the spot very closest to the driver.

The bus continued on to the next stop, which was on a much less busy street, and the driver got up and used some of those Wipe-All towels to mop up the spill as best as he could, dumping out some of his own bottle of water on the floor to dilute it. By this time the drunk, for what else could I call him, had extracted a handful of bills from his wallet and was organizing them on the seat, lining them up into neat little piles while his torso wobbled to and fro.

The heroic bus driver moved on and the drunk put his money away and then immediately collapsed against the wall and passed out. I privately hoped that he would sleep through his stop. As I got off the bus I gave the driver my best “Man, this job must really suck at times” expression and gave him a heartfelt “Thank you”. Fortunately headphones don’t prevent me from speaking, and I’m not so dumb as to yell to the point where I can hear myself.

They need to make one of those Bud Light Salutes Real Men of Genius commercials for the misunderstood bus driver. Thank you Mr. Bus Driver man, thank you for all that you do.