Beach Town Bus Driver

A grey-haired fellow wearing shorts, a tee-shirt and flip-flops boarded the bus up around 100th Street. It was obvious from the slur in his speech that he had been out bar hopping. He took the very front seat on the right side of the bus and immediately started talking to a young man seated directly across from him. “I sense something scientific going on here. Are you a student in the sciences? I’m psychic. I feel that you will be responsible for an important scientific discovery sometime in the future. Do you know Jeane Dixon? She’s my aunt. I’m psychic.” The baffled young man was speechless as he looked around at his friends. I doubt if anybody on that bus other than me and the psychic had ever heard of the late Jeane Dixon. She was a popular astrologer and psychic in the 1960s and 1970s. Her horoscope column ran in many newspapers throughout the United States. Of course, that was long before any of the kids riding on this bus were born.

The psychic turned to me and said, “I need to go to Fresco’s. Do you know where that is?” I was tempted to say, “Sure, I know where it is. You mean to tell me you don’t.” But, instead I just said, “Yeah, it’s on 83rd. There’s a stop at 84th. I’ll drop you off there.” As we approached 84th I said, “Here’s your stop buddy. You can see the sign for Fresco’s from here.” He replied, “Oh, I forgot. Somebody took my car keys. I can’t get off here.” Apparently, earlier in the evening, one of his clairvoyant companions decided that it would be best to separate the psychic from his car keys. Remarkable powers of induction! So he asks me, “I guess it will be OK to leave my car there tonight. What do you think?” What do I think? You’re the psychic! What do you think? Hold on, let me check my Magic 8 Ball here . . . Outlook Not So Good. “Gee, I really don’t know buddy but I can tell you this. If the number sixty-five keeps coming into your mind it might be because the vehicle impound lot is located at 65th Street.”

He thought it over for a while and decided he would go home. Along the way he reminded us again that he is psychic and his aunt is you-know-who. He also predicted a major earthquake here along the east coast. I'm not going to worry a whole lot about that one but we’ll see what happens. “I need to get off at 28th Street, are we at twenty-eight yet?” “Oh, sorry buddy. We’re at sixty-eight. Nice try though. You got one number right and one number wrong.”

He encouraged the young man to “Keep studying that science. It’s going to be important one day.” Then, at 28th Street, he vanished from our presence with a stagger and a wave.

This place would have to shut down if it weren't for all of the foreign students who come here to man every junk shop cash register, wait on every restaurant table, cook every french fry, scoop every ice cream cone and make every hotel bed in town. I don't know why American kids aren't interested in these summer jobs at the beach. There are a few, but the American employees are a small minority. I was taken aback the other day when a lifeguard from the Ocean City Beach Patrol got on my bus speaking with a Russian accent. Next we will have Russian police officers and firefighters down here. Not that there's anything wrong with that! It just surprises me to see the students moving into the public safety jobs. There are a lot of drivers and I haven't met all of them, but as far as I know, we don't have any foreign bus drivers. Although, there is one guy who is Jamaican. He's not a student and I think he has lived here for many years. I think he speaks English but I can't understand one word that man says. It's bad enough in person, but when the dispatcher says something to him on the radio his reply sounds like, "E ab ta boo tee ray." The dispatcher says, "OK." OK??? What in the world did that man say??? What do you mean, "OK"? I really don't think the dispatcher understood him either but what else was she going to say?

So far there have been many Eastern European students arriving daily; mostly Russians with a few Lithuanians, Romanians, Bulgarians and Poles peppered in. What I find most interesting is the surprising number of students from Nepal. In addition, I have met at least one person from Slovakia, Finland and Senegal. We could open our own branch of the United Nations here.

Last night a jolly group of kids got on the bus a-whoopin' and a-hollerin'. As soon as they all got seated they all burst out in unison singing a song. At first I couldn't figure out if it was some kind of a school song or a fight song for a sports team or what it might be. They finished the song and somebody called out the name of another song. "Horray!" they screamed and started in on the next tune. Then it dawned on me. "Ohhhh! Irish drinking songs." The Irish students have arrived and I thought they were going to blow the windows out of the bus. I think they were having a ceili back there. I kept announcing the stops but there was no chance that anyone on the bus could hear me. A young lad came up to me and asked, "Say, I was wonderin' if ya might tell us when we come to Third Street." "We passed it about six blocks back." He turned to his friends and said, "We missed our stop." "Horray!" they all yelled and bounded off of the bus into the night still a-whoopin' and a-hollerin'. What a crowd! Welcome to America.

Dear Loyal Readers,
Thursday night was uneventful and Friday was looking pretty much the same. What to put in the blog was starting to weigh heavily on my mind. All of a sudden The Psychic stepped onto the bus and the next episode wrote itself. I'm anxious to get this one in the blog for you but it's already time to get back to work for the Saturday night shift. Please check back tomorrow. Thanks. Some of the feedback I have been getting has been wonderful. I now feel that I have a responsibility to keep cranking it out. I think I have created a monster. I wasn't looking for this kind of pressure! It truly is a lot of fun and I am glad to hear that so many people are enjoying the stories. More soon. Thanks!

Why do some people think it is perfectly acceptable to verbally abuse another person? A passenger boarded my bus with a five dollar bill in his hand. "The fare is two dollars please. I'm sorry, I don't give change." "What? Well that's [explicative deleted] up! How many people have exact change?" I looked at my passenger counter. "Five hundred and twenty-three so far." He turns back to his friends, "Hey, it's two dollars and this [explicative deleted] won't give me change. Give me a one and I'll pay for all three of us." His buddy gives him the one and he stuffs the six dollars into the fare box. "Here [explicative deleted]! That's for three of us." "That's great. But you are not going to talk that way to me and expect to ride on my bus. Now step off of the bus." "Give me my [explicative deleted] money back!" "Sorry, I can't get it out of the fare box. Here's your three tickets. Use them to ride the next bus."

Bye-bye [explicative deleted].

People are always saying to me, "You must hate this job." The truth is, so far, I love it. I can see how it might wear a little thin in a short period of time, but even at its worst it's not that bad. This weekend I had the pleasure of experiencing all of the things that the seasoned drivers have been warning me about.

• Heavy traffic: The route is about 10 miles (16 km) long. At the north end and the south end I have to merge the bus over to the left through two lanes of very heavy traffic. Nobody likes to drive behind a bus so sometimes it's hard to get a break. No problem, I just put my left turn signal on and slowly start edging over. Soon enough a wise automobile driver who does not want to be crushed by a 35,000 pound (16.000 kg) bus decides to let me in.
• Crowded bus: Yes, the bus gets very crowded and very loud. After I cram as many passengers as I can into the bus, we start passing bus stops. I tell the people, "Wave to the nice people at the bus stop because we are not picking them up." They always cheer and wave. The people at the bus stop wave too, but it is usually a one-fingered wave. I tell the passengers, "Hey they must think we are the 'Number One Bus' in town. Isn't that nice?"
• Pukers: I have to admit, this was my worst fear. All of the drivers advised me to keep that air conditioner running as cold as possible. Refrigerated drunks are much less likely to throw up as the bus bounces down the road. I find that it keeps the odor down too. I mean sometimes I feel like I'm getting drunk just from smelling their breath. As it turns out, the puking is not that bad. You see, when drunks puke it's not the really disgusting, putrid, vile, macaroni and cheese, chunky stew kind. It's usually just beer. So, I stop the bus, throw down some absorbant, and away we go.
• Fighters: Some drunks like to fight. The trouble is, they are too drunk to land a really good punch. There have been a few fights on my bus but no one has gotten hurt so far. It's usually just a bunch of trash talking and stumbling around. I just open the doors and let them fall out into the street. I check my rearview mirror to make sure nobody is laying under my tires and it's on to the next stop.
• Flippers: No, not the kind you wear on your feet when you go snorkeling or scuba diving. I'm talking about "bus flippers." Yeah, this one was new to me too. To do a bus flip, you grab the hand rails on the ceiling at the left and right side of the center aisle and throw your legs up over your head, release, and land. Ta-daaa! Bus flip! Driver stops bus. Bus flipper ejected from bus. Very simple. Last night the bus was semi-crowded --- enough room to do bus flips, but too many people for me to see who was doing them. I knew they were flipping back there because I could here the feet hitting the floor and the cheers. I knew it was a girl because they where chanting, "Rhonda! Rhonda! Rhonda!" I stopped and made my way to the back of the bus looking for this girl. I got back there and, much to my surprise, no kids! Just adults! Adults were doing bus flips! Well, I picked out the most likely culprit and said, "There's the door." The crowd said, "Awwwww." She left without argument and her friends said, "I guess we better go with her." I guess they know the procedure --- probably been flipping since they were about 14 years old.

So now, you know the worst of it. If I start moaning and complaining in weeks to come, somebody please remind me to go back and read my June 12 blog. Thanks!

I guess American kids think it’s cool to mimic the vulgar behavior seen on MTV or Comedy Central in any social situation. I know they’re “young adults” but I‘ll call them kids until I see them show signs of growing up. I wonder what the European young adults think when they observe the drunkenness, the foul language, and the disrespect for self and others displayed by the Americans. When the Europeans ride my bus they are friendly, polite and respectful. They carry on civil conversations with one another and seem to be having a genuinely good time. I can imagine what they might say when they return home and people ask about America. “The American kids are like a pack of wild animals --- the only difference being, wild animals don’t have money.”

I’m probably being too hard on the majority of the Americans here. The truth is, most of them behave in an acceptable fashion. It’s hard not to focus on the ones who make spectacles of themselves. I had a kid on my bus last night who was totally over the top. I rarely throw anyone off of my bus, but I wanted to get rid of this guy. The trouble was, the bus was packed and he was all the way in the back yelling and screaming. I couldn’t have gotten to him without a great deal of difficulty. He rode for quite a while but eventually he got off. If I had it to do over again, I think I would take the time and trouble to get rid of the guy.

Sometimes I employ the assistance of the passengers in certain situations. The bus has two doors on the side. Naturally, passengers are supposed to board the bus at the front door and pay the fare. But I have occasionally caught kids jumping in the back door when the bus is packed and passengers are exiting the bus by way of the rear door. I just close the back door and announce on the PA that the bus is not moving until that guy who jumped on the back of my bus gets out. Then I open the door and say, “Now will you passengers back there please tell that guy to get off so we can get moving.” The response is usually quick and effective.

What I have found so far is that when I tell someone to “Get off my bus,” they usually do it with no argument whatsoever. I’m starting to think that getting thrown off of the bus is like a badge of honor giving the bearer bragging rights. “Hey man, I got thrown off the bus last night!” “Wow dude, that is so cool.” So, from now on, when they provoke me I will grant them their rite of passage.


It’s Friday night. Lots of traffic rolled into town today. It should be an exciting weekend. I hope to have some upbeat stories to share after these next few night shifts.

The high school grads are here in full force this week. They are celebrating, riding the bus up and down Coastal Highway to and from their favorite party spots. At one particular stop about a dozen pretty girls boarded my bus. One of the girls is the daughter of a friend of mine. She and her friends just graduated from an all-girls high school and they are here for the week to enjoy the beach and the parties. After riding for a while, and of course attracting the attention of every boy on the bus, they rang the bell to get off at the next stop. As they got off of the bus my friend's daughter said, "Thanks for the ride Mr. Bill. We want to come to your place tomorrow for lunch. Is that OK with you?" I said, "Sure girls, that would be great! See you tomorrow." After they left the bus, I looked over my shoulder and winked at the teenage guys sitting on the bus. Their jaws dropped as I said, "Sorry fellas, I guess I've still got it!"

Of course the only thing I've "got" that the girls want is a free meal. But that's OK with me. A few of them came over for lunch and it was a thrill for this old bus driver.

This morning when I got home from working the 10:00pm to 6:00am shift I thought, "I have nothing for the blog." It was a very busy night and it went by very quickly, but it seemed that I had come away with no really good stories. For those who might be curious, there was no Phillip sighting last night. Perhaps he has learned that the bus is not a peaceful place to hang out on a Saturday night. Rosie Perez? Yes, she got on the bus with her brother and a bunch of friends. "Hey, how you doin' Bill? Tomorrow's my birthday, man. I'm going to be 19." "Hey, that's great. Congratulations!" Funny how all of her friends appear to be much younger. I still say she's 16.

I got to talk to two very nice girls from Finland. Katri said she is working at Pepper's, a place on the boardwalk that serves Mexican food. I told her I would come and see her sometime.

As my shift was ending and the sun was coming up, I was sitting on my bus at the south end of the route. In a few minutes I would go out of service and return to the bus terminal. A drunk, oh sorry, an obviously intoxicated gentleman staggered up to my bus. I said, "Sorry buddy this bus isn't going anywhere." Apparently he didn't care for my tone of voice and he lit into me about how I don't like my job. "You don't like your job, do you?" "Actually, I like it very much." "No you don't! If you don't like your job, maybe you shouldn't be doing this job." He walked away, turning back to tell me that Jesus loves me. Thanks buddy, He loves you too.

My shift ended and I went home to get some sleep. When I arrived at home my son was just getting ready to go out to work his job at a restaurant. "See you this afternoon. Wake me up when you get home and maybe we'll go out for some tacos."

In the afternoon we headed down to the boardwalk and had dinner at Pepper's where Katri was our waitress. It was quite a pleasant night, so after dinner my son and I walked to the south end of the boardwalk. Along the way we passed all kinds of little shops and restaurants and arcades. Toward the south end there are a variety of carnival games like pop the balloons with a dart, ring toss, and water gun races. Well, guess who was working the knock over the bottles with a ball game. That's right, my intoxicated buddy from this morning, looking a little weary and sporting a red and white striped carnival blazer. I looked him right in the eye and he looked back at me as if he had some hazy recollection of having seen me somewhere before. It was all I could do to keep from saying, "Ah ha! How do you like your job?" But, I was afraid he might jump over that booth and come out swinging at me. So, I just kept my mouth shut and kept on walking, thinking to myself, "Buddy, you just made the blog!"

Nothing special to share with you about the last two days of "R-Tic" training. I successfully completed it and I am now qualified to drive the NABI 60-foot long articulating bus. Because of the training hours, I am off tonight and Friday night. They're not real keen on paying overtime around here. I'll be driving again on Saturday night. Hope to have another interesting tale on Sunday morning.