The Bus Stops Here

Okay, so public transportation hasn't really been a lifestyle choice for me so far in my life. Whenever I needed to get somewhere, I've had a totally boss ride of my own and very few parking problems up until now. However, traveling into Oakland from Swissvale every day reveals some inherent traffic and parking problems in driving my own car. Most noticably, I just don't have the money to pay their exorbitant parking fees. So for the last month, I've been taking the Pittsburgh buses to go to class. That's right, those filthy, inefficient, poverty-packed public transportation monstrosities that you've heard so much about. And you know what?

I fucking love it!

Not only do I get to avoid all the traffic of the east side of Pittsburgh, but I don't have to pay a cent for parking or gas. My bus (the one from my actual route pictured above incidentally) stops relatively close to my apartment and comes just about every half hour. As an added bonus, all Pitt students can ride all Allegheny county buses for free!! Epic win!

But the savings and convenience only scratch the surface of explaining the awesome sweetness of the bus. The cast of characters littering the buses on any given day truly makes for an inspirational ride. I could write ten books based around the colorful collection of city travelers that I've witnessed.

A Small Sampling:

The Helpful Talkative Jew: On my second day of riding the bus, I witnessed the first of many eccentric folks: a tubby, bearded Jewish man who spent the entire trip chatting it up with the bus driver. His conversation was innocent enough until he decided that the Port Authority of Pittsburgh buses use inefficient routes, and he adamantly explained to the driver how their route system could be more efficient. "Please stay behind the yellow line, sir," said the patient bus driver. "Don't be such a shmuck. If you'd just cut across 5th Avenue to the Boulevard of the Allies, you'd make it to Centre Ave..." "Sir... please sit down." It went back and forth like this the whole way into campus. He never did get the hint. When I disembarked, the Rabbi Magellan was still extoling the virtues of his directions.

The Senile Babbler: Public buses have a well deserved reputation for featuring some of the mental cases from around the city, and my route is no different. On one occassion, I had the misfortune (or good luck perhaps) to sit across from one such character. This old gentleman swayed back and forth in his seat while muttering to the railing next to him. For all intents and purposes, this guy looked to be completely detached from reality, except when the bus would make a turn onto a new street, then he would point forward in a dramatic fashion (think Captain Picard ordering warp speed) and demand, "Full speed, that-a-way!" before returning to his usual ramblings. This continued the entire way home; however, in one moment of perfect lucidity, he suddenly turned to the poor woman sitting right next to him and said, "Bus is running a bit late today."

The Bubbly Chatter: Bus etiquette is no mystery. I picked up on most of it on just a few trips. The most important thing is to sit down, don't take up two seats, and don't talk to anyone else. Nobody wants to chat; everyone would prefer to travel in peace. But one afternoon, the bus stops at Carnegie Mellon, and the most enthusiastic traveler ever to ride the bus bounded aboard. This spritely young lady decked out in pink (not kidding) hops up the stairs and announces, "HI EVERYONE!" (cue uncomfortable shifting of eyes from passengers) The girl makes her way past me, saying hello to everyone she passes. She finally stops next to a middle aged woman who, as far as I could tell, had no prior relationship with her. She proceeds to tell this unlucky soul about her entire personal history: "You know, I don't normally take the bus home on Mondays, because I normally go to the library on Mondays to study. But today I wanted to go home to study because there's a marathon of Gossip Girl on tonight, and I need to catch up on last season. There's just no time to study and catch on your shows, you know? I'm studying psychology but I just don't know if I can handle the advanced classes that deal with social disorders. Can you believe that there are people out there you can't understand basic social mores?"

The Mad Bomber: This seedy passenger comes aboard wearing a gray hoodie pulled up over his balding head. His remaining hair is matted and stringy. He's wearing sunglasses at dusk and sporting a long black trenchcoat. He's carrying a tattered and very full bookbag. He sits down and stares blankly out the front window. To say that the collective mood of the passengers shifted to "unnerved" would be an understatement. Fortunately, the suspicious gentleman traveled to his destination without incident.

The Comic Book Pedophile: Another instance of criminal profiling. Young children are hardly rare on the bus, and most people pay them no mind even if they're being noisy and unpleasant. This particular young boy was happily absorbed in some sort of nondescript comic book (I didn't recognize the title anyway). Everyone ignored him except for one bespectacled bearded man in his thirties wearing sweatpants and a windbreaker. He comes over and sits down next to the young lad and proceeds to inform him of his sizable comic book collection and explains that he has a rare issue of Spiderman encased in glass "at my mom's house." The man embodied his own trope. The mother eyed him suspiciously, but he seemed so genuinely interested in the boy's comic book that no one could be sure of any questionable intentions. Still, what kind of grown man has engaging conversations with random six-year-olds about comic books while riding a bus (you know... aside from Batmite)?

And on a related note:

I also go jogging/walking in nearby Frick Park from time to time, and the oddballs creep through there as well. Last Monday, I encountered two such yahoos. The first was a carbon copy of the Comic Book Pedophile, complete with beard and thick glasses. Except this guy was wearing a black shirt with the words "HAN SHOT FIRST" emblazoned on the front. If you don't know what that means, you probably get laid on a regular basis.

On the SAME TRIP, I'm jogging back toward my car, and I see a man wandering off the main trail carrying a spade shovel and a very large cumbersome white sack. He sets down the sack about fifty yards into the woods and proceeds to dig into the ground. I wanted no part of witnessing whatever this fellow was trying so unsuccessfully to hide, so I continued on my way. I have no desire to be a helpful informant.

Pittsburgh's got a colorful cast of characters. No wonder my family's from this city.

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"So these people live here?"
"This is a bus. People use it to get places that they need to go."