Bus Ride

First Memphis Bus Ride

Riding the Mata bus has less to do with the actual bus riding part, and more to do with "catching" it. After one attempt, I had almost given up. I had walked down my street and waited for over an hour. In my notes, I had commented on how I couldn't believe the bus drivers still had to work on labor day. I guess many of them didn't. I had seen buses traveling down my street earlier in the day but I suppose right when I decided to wait for one, they all went on break. There I stood with one pocket full of a dollar sixty exactly in one pocket and a handful of Starbursts in the other. As I waited for the bus, the sounds I heard were the most noticeable to me: small conversations of neighbors, thumping rap and Motown music of cars passing by, the silly tune of the ice cream truck, a helicopter, the vibrating sounds of insects, a distant dog bark, and even a cough, hock, and ptew. A man with a bag full of groceries asked how I was doing, and as he walked away, asked if I had any spare change. At this point, almost an hour later, I'm itchy, thirsty, still hungover, and my right armpit is excessively sweating. I have enough time to walk home for a glass of water only to return to find the bus has still not come.

Now as I ponder over what I've written in my notebook, I realize I was just using up wasted time waiting for the bus by overly absorbing everything around me. Watching people, listening to sounds, and anxiously tormenting my last nerve in hopes of that big, loud Mata bus driving around that corner at the end of my block. Then I got a text message. Presented with a grand opportunity, I was forced to decide whether I would wait on this bus or go swimming in the pool of some mansion.

I eventually did make it on the bus. I took a spot in the middle, choosing not to sit on the stained seats. I saw many black women who looked tired and rested their heads. This bus was extremely noisy; every time we hit a bump, the bus's pieces jiggle with a loud clashing noise. Of course I'm confused when we get to the station and as I look around, I realize I'm the only one. I stand around writing, when a man in all black starts talking to me. We talk about all kinds of things as I stand by him waiting on my next bus. To my surprise, I see many of the people outside the bus depot with beer in some form. One man has a case in each hand and I think the man in all black is drinking beer out of his water canteen.

The ride back was much calmer and more quiet. There were less people on this one and most of them were much younger. You notice a lot more when you ride the bus because the windows are so big and the driving is so slow. I look at the bus passengers' faces, noticing where they stare to, and I wonder what they're thinking. And there's my stop.