O O Ø O O O O
Joseph Drives a Bus
Joseph drives a bus.
As a rule, he doesn’t stop for anyone running to catch the bus, particularly if they’re wearing a set of those gay little white headphones. If they’re not going to actively participate in his world, he’s not going to assist them with theirs.
When he pulls over for someone sitting on the bench, who’s waiting for a different bus but doesn’t wave or otherwise signal Joe to pass them by, he flips them the bird outside the driver’s window. The offender can’t see, but Joe flips it anyway. He doesn’t see it as cathartic, he sees it as cosmic equilibrium.
Joe sometimes hurries pedestrians across the crosswalk when he’s turning corners. But he always tries to push them out of his way when they’re walking and talking on a cell phone.
Oh, and cell phones? When Joe checks his mirror and sees two or more people blithely chatting into their hands—Oh! What did you do this weekend? You have to go. I was so wasted. And so on—he starts driving erratically. There are no innocents here: everyone pays. Fellow drivers? They pay too. Like they’re not talking into their hands like everyone else.
Speaking of fellow drivers, Joe makes a point of moving into the centre lane, then cutting off any SUV drivers between him and the stop. SUV drivers and anyone driving a car worth more than 50 large. Or less than $1,000. Everyone else he just tailgates.
If you wait too long to ding the next-stop dinger, Joe just sails on by. Too eager is a roll of the dice as well.
Joe’s been driving for over two decades, and he has yet to pick up a nun.
Joe knows left from right, and right from wrong. Often, he just chooses to ignore the difference. Joe is whip-smart, a gallant prick, a complete work of imagination, and my kind of people.
At least with Joe, you know where you stand. (Dripping with mud, late and without a ride.)
Unlike some others I could name.
Evan Spence
September 13, 2005
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