The Old ‘Y’ Lady


The sound of fiberglass scraping the black-top across the street as the car nosed into an EQ dip in the road. My bus stop companion could not speak and asked if this was the Number 8 with his hands and fingers and I nodded. My iPhone blipped the time for Duhr and I prayed it in my head while I sat at the stop with my walker in front of me.

“AAnh gong Ahhh Dahhh!”

My seat mate pointed to the bus stop, that was covered, across the street. I nodded at him and started the prayer, again, in my head.

“RRRRrrrrrrrrrrrpsssstttttttshhhhstiissssss”

Bus 8 stopped in front of me and the entire bus lowered itself so I could push my walker on-board.  As I have begun riding the bus it has come to my attention that most of the denizens of the terminal are black. Whites are the minority here but that does not bother me at all. One of the more interesting things is that some black people will not sit next to an old white lady…

…interesting role reversals. I still don’t think anyone is going to steal my purse.

A young couple gets on and they are tired. They are wearing hospital scrubs in that monotone blue tech style and they slump on each other and close their eyes. The last round of the bus today. After that it is only open down town until midnight.

Half the people, like me, ride the bus because they can’t drive or are poor or disabled but the other half ride for green reasons. They must be because the young man snoozing in the pale blue scrubs sports a quietly expensive watch and he does not seem to think anyone will steal it.

“HOW YO’ MAMA!”

Someone in the back yells up to the front where a red-headed freckle faced step-chile sits and she yells back,

“She fine we goin’ t’ the hos-pit-al for her kidney stones!”

The grey haired lady beside her cannot hear I guess. I can’t either half the time but I guess she can’t hear at all and they hop Bus 8 for Bus 22 inbound.

Bus people kinda ‘know’ each other. Not close but we recognize faces and all.

We all jerk right and then left and then right and then sling back as the bus makes it’s way through traffic an around corners. ‘People been known to slide into the isle if they don’t hold tight or if a driver is mad. The drivers already know me now and it’s only been two weeks. I am the old ‘Y’ lady.

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