Rider's on the Bus

 An account from a Thursday bus ride. 

I wonder what Jim Morrison would write about riding on the city bus? Would he write an eccentric, colorful, descriptive of the ride itself, or an eclectic account of the people who ride the bus? I think anything that he would put into words would certainly be from an account like no other, than Jim Morrison could describe. This is not that, but I'll do my best.
   
     I wait at the little sign marked 'bus', near my place in Mesa, Arizona. It's a fabulously sunny day with a slight wind. I'm dressed in my business attire for a meeting in North Scottsdale that will take about two hours to get to. My meeting is at 1:30 p.m., it's 9:00 a.m. The same ride via the freeway is about twenty minutes, and I'm giving myself extra time in case of anything that can possibly go wrong. And it usually does. lol
   My day isn't gonna get any better, cause I've just had the pleasure of speaking to my favorite Cowboy.
    I get on the bus, transfer once in Mesa, and transfer again in Tempe. I wonder where they get some of these bus drivers. Are they rejects from the race car circuit or so in tune with the job that they can drive across town, and stop at every single stop on time, while wearing a blind fold? 
     On a stop in Tempe, a woman boards the bus and pays her fare. She turns to find a seat, and the bus driver quickly accelerates, sending this woman into a near face plant. The sound of her smacking the floor is second to the gasps of myself and three others who rush to help this woman up, gather her belongings and get her to a seat. 
    The bus driver quickly stopped and apologized saying he thought she was seated. But the look in his eye says that he was in a car at P.I.R. (Phoenix International Raceway) and the pace car had just left the track. I immediately felt under dressed. Maybe I should have worn my motorcycle helmet. Hmm....
 After catching the north bound McClintock Rd bus, I ride north for quite a while to get into Scottsdale, where there is loads of road construction and traffic detours.
     I would already be on the street I need to get out on, but the route is detoured from Hayden to 94th Street. I signal the driver to stop at Cactus Rd and 94th Street. She lets me off and I walk west on Cactus Rd to Hayden Rd for forty five minutes (about two miles). 
    Just past the Loop 101 Freeway at Cactus Rd, I see this

      I smile, and know that I soooooooo love  Phoenix and the Free Enterprise System that we so often take for granted .
      After my appointment, I walk from Cactus and Hayden Rds to Shea Blvd (another mile). I very much enjoy the scenery and the walk in the sun 

       My friend calls and asks me to meet him for coffee on the west side, near 19th Ave and Bethany Home Rd. So I grab the west bound Shea Blvd bus, which detours all over the place. That ride was like roller coaster at a theme park. It went every where except in a straight line. Even the automated street announcement system couldn't keep up with this guys driving. It was announcing every stop two to three minutes after we passed the stops. I couldn't wait to get off that bus. At this point I'm thinking 'maybe Valley Metro's bus drivers really do train at Bondurant Racing School.'
       My connection is the 19th Ave southbound, in a neighborhood that I lived in when I first moved to Phoenix, several years ago. I don't remember it looking so scary. But I do remember the guys in my band didn't like coming there. Tony (the drummer) always used to peek through the blinds; When I asked what he was looking for, his reply was "I'm waiting for someone to get shot. You live in a bad neighborhood, Dude." 
        Fortunately I wasn't a witness to any shootings, just the typical 'bus' entertainment, which today, happened to be the best on the 19th Ave route.
       The 19 rolls up around four thirty. I get in and take a seat in the front between two lovely gentlemen whom I will call Pinot and Bud (more than likely their sur names could be Noir & Weiser), directly across from two women, I'll call Gina and Rosa (they're playing the 'passing judgement' game - in Spanish). It goes like this:  
Everyone who gets on the bus, gets the up and down eyeball once over, and the girls give their opinion  or 'pass judgment' on people's shoes, their hair, their gender, and gender preference. 
      The Urban game these gal's are playing reminds me of a Spanish version of Hee Haw's Gossip Girls.
       Now I'm nearly downtown at rush hour, my friend has been detoured some place else and I need to get back to Mesa. I'm pretty darn sure I don't wanna go back the same way I came, especially during rush hour.
        Valley Metro does have a superb automated, texting, and customer service center. You can get bus and light rail info at your finger tips rather quickly. I ring straight through and a helpful girl tells me that I can catch the Metro Light Rail less than a block from where I was at Montebello and 19th Ave. 
         No soldiers on this trip. But there were Metro security ( fare checkers) and a couple of City Cops, which I thought was a bit odd (I mean where was their car?). 
        The Metro light rail then does take you straight through downtown, and you're cruising in the middle of the street, so you're passing all the vehicles that are stopping at the traffic lights. It's kind of strange on the first ride, but I'm sure you get used to it. 
        I started out at rush hour in midtown Phoenix, and within an hour was back in Mesa. The only thing I thought was missing from the ride was some jamming tunes should have been pumped in along with that lovely oxygenated air conditioning.

Cheers!  Until my next adventure

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