Three things I learned on my way to work
When I tell non-Philadelphians that I take the bus to and from work every day, they are always a bit shocked and look at me in a strange way; "the bus" sounds so dirty, so sketchy.
They're not wrong - SEPTA buses are dirty and sketchy, but if you live in Philadelphia and rely on public transportation, it's the only way to go. And so, my daily bizarre and truly insane bus adventures have become normal, expected. I almost look forward to them.
Three things I learned on my way to work:
Clean, well-dressed people who seem normal and ask you for a dollar are probably heroin addicts.How did I learn this? While waiting at the bus stop a clean, well-dressed guy came up to me and asked for change so he could catch a bus to Jersey. I, being a soft touch especially when I'm alone, gave him a dollar.
Immediately afterward, I was scolded by the man next to me. Interestingly enough the man next to me, who wasn't as well-dressed as the freeloader, works as a drug counselor.
"Didn't you see the track marks?" he said.
No, my track-mark radar was off this morning, I told him.
Mr. Drug Counselor then went down the line of people who beg for money:
Heroin addicts are usually clean, often carry books or work-related items in order to appear more professional and ask for small amounts of money in order to "get somewhere."Crackheads are pretty obvious, as they are usually skinny, dirty, antsy and a bit pushy.Homeless people are usually the dirtiest, often mentally ill, but ultimately they just want money for food, maybe a little booze.While still pondering my "How to Spot a Heroin Addict" lesson from Mr. Drug Counselor, I boarded the bus to crazyland, as I do every morning.
Without fail, there is ALWAYS at least one nutcase talking, shouting or swearing to himself or others on each ride. This morning was no different in that respect, but something entertaining and educational happened this time.
Second thing I learned on my way to work this morning:
2. There's a sanity caste system.
The crazies yield to the really crazy, and the really crazy inevitably step aside for the truly insane. All the while, the sane, middle class and professionals in the crowd pretend none of this is happening and stare out the window. It's really fun to watch.
At 7th and Market an old, angry, mumbling man got on the bus, and routinely scanned the bus while angrily mumbling about each person he saw. At 11th and Market a woman with a 3-year-old child boarded the bus and proceeded to sit next to the old angry mumbler. Within a block, the mumbler flipped out, did a beeline for the back of the bus and loudly professed his hatred for the kid and his mother.
"I ain't sitting next to no (expletive) kid, (expletive expletive)," he said. "What the hell kind of bus you runnin, puttin' me next to no (expletive) kid."
I had to agree with him on that one.
About a block later, the mother, who initially seemed rational, proved to be crazier than the mumbler. While her child ran around the front of the bus with no protective reaction from her, she suddenly began to belt out, "Coming Out of the Dark." You know, that song by Gloria Estefan.
It was so fantastic, even the most seasoned out-the-window lookers could not deny this was happening. Even more interesting, this loony behavior shut the old angry mumbler up completely, and he stared with the rest of us. Not a peep was heard from him for the duration of the ride.
But we're not done yet.
At 20th and Market a relatively large 20-something woman swaggered onto the bus slurping a frosty-looking fruit smoothie. (And believe me, a swagger is very noticeable early in the morning - it's extremely out of place.) I didn't pay attention to the preliminary interaction she had with the bus driver, as I was preparing to catch the spinning 3-year-old before he ran head first into a pole (Gloria was still humming her set. With her eyes closed).
I started to pay attention when the driver repeatedly told the woman to get off of the bus while she swore at him. No one was really alarmed at this point - seriously, it's a popular mode of behavior on SEPTA. But then this happened:
The driver parked the bus, got off and stood on the corner talking on the phone. Miss Slurpie yelled in a disturbingly deep voice, threw her drink at the driver and started swinging her bag at people in the aisle.
Everyone was freaked out and looking for the back door. The joint terror stemmed mainly from being abandoned by our driver. Seriously, WTF dude? He left us on the bus with a nut job, who, by that point, had wrapped herself around a pole and was moaning like an animal.
This scene caused even Gloria Estefan to stop her performance, remember her motherly duty and locate her child. As for angry mumbler, he was looking very sane at that point - with the same look of terror we all had.
The third thing I learned on my way to work:
3. The people in this city have widely accepted crazy as the norm. Myself included.
Nothing that happened this morning was anything I hadn't seen before. The strange thing was the over-the-top pile-on of crazy. It's usually one incident per ride.
It made me laugh out of amazement. Heroin addicts; profane old men; bad American Idol performances; and slurpie-drinking animal moaners: This is not a normal trip to work for most people. And yet, on the Philadelphia SEPTA system it is.
By the time I got to work, my cup of coffee was superfluous. I was wide awake. A good shot of crazy will do that to you. I just hope I don't start showing track marks.
