On Transit

Driving a bus is one of those professions that I see as being extraordinarily useful to society, but I cannot understand who would possibly want to do it. There is no glamour involved, nothing intellectually stimulating about the task, and I don’t expect (although I don’t know for sure) that the pay is particularly good. You have to drive in circles all day, all the while cooped up in a noisy, smelly, bumpy bus; you have a rigid schedule to keep; and you must constantly deal with the stupidity of other drivers on the road.

I am sure that some bus drivers claim that they do it “because of the people they get to meet,� but I have trouble buying this explanation, mainly because the majority of people the bus driver interacts with on an average day are probably either a) grumpy, sleepy people staggering to work at ungodly hours of the morning, b) grumpy, tired people coming home after a long day at work who want nothing more than for the ride to be over, c) confused or crazy people demanding directions to ridiculous places, or d) people trying to weasel their way out of paying the fare. Given those options, I would probably prefer a solitary job.

To be fair, I understand that for many people, any job is a good job, and that for some a job in which you get paid for simply driving the same route around town might actually be pleasantly relaxing, stress-free, and even enjoyable. But even so, I still have trouble picturing anyone really, really coveting a bus driving job. Try as I might, I cannot imagine an eight year old, brimming with excitement at the possibilities of the world, proudly informing people that he wants to be a bus driver.

Most bus drivers tend to be middle aged or older, and vary widely by ethnicity and gender, but except for extreme and unusual cases, there are only two things that really distinguish them for the average rider: whether or not they call out the stops, and whether or they say anything to the people entering or exiting the bus. Within this second category, there plenty of room for variation. Some drivers monotonously repeat “have a good day� to every person leaving the bus in a voice which clearly indicates that they have no interest whatsoever in whether any of their riders have a good day or not, and I can’t really blame them in this. Some drivers switch up their routine, saying something to every third person exiting and alternating between “thank you� and “have a good day,� and this may or may not appear sincere. Some don’t say anything, and only grunt unintelligibly if someone thanks them for the ride.

However, there is a special group of drivers possessed of such natural charisma that they come off as completely authentic every time they say “hello� or tell you to “have a good day now.� I have great admiration for these people. One of them, a friendly African American woman, drives the bus that I often catch at 5:35. Despite my knowledge that she says the same thing to every passenger, I cannot help but feel thrilled every time I get on her bus; she makes me feel that she is personally delighted to have my patronage and that she wants nothing more than to make the ride as pleasant as possible for me.

I am amazed daily at the cheerfulness she brings to what I would consider to be a fairly depressing job. However, I am equally (if not more) appreciative of the breakneck speed at which she navigates the freeway, as well as the way she lays into the horn with all her weight when cars get too close to the edge of the road while she zooms along the shoulder during bad traffic. Though I always look forward to her welcoming smile when I get on the bus, that really warms my heart.