When I tell people that I am a Metro bus driver, invariably I am asked, "Have you had to deal with difficult passengers"? There is no question that there are situations where I have to interact with some challenging riders. Fortunately, however, most people-and dogs as well-get on and off the bus without disruption, usually resulting in a pleasant mass transit experience for everybody involved.
Nonetheless, every once in a while an incident occurs that deviates from the range of normal behavior within the bus culture. These occasions serve to reinforce the message that I coexist in a world with limitless characters awaiting my arrival at every stop.
One of the keys to maintaining calm on the bus is the presence of the city's senior citizens. For many individuals, poverty and physical impediments restricts this group to using Metro as their sole source of transportation. Whether it is giving up a seat or self-censoring colorful language, other riders often feel an obligation to mind their manners when in the company of elderly people. Moreover, I have found seniors to be some of our most dedicated, kind and appreciative riders.
As with any population, there are a few people who exhibit behavior divergent from the group at large. Recently I had such an encounter with an elderly passenger whose temperament ran contrary to most senior citizen riders I have observed.
On this day I was one stop away from the end of my route. For the past four months I have not had a passenger board my bus at this particular spot, most likely because this stop was near the end of the line. When I approached the stop in question to drop off my remaining riders, I noticed an older woman who seemed to be confused. I figured she was looking for a different numbered coach, so I called out, "Ma'am, this is an 8; I'm only going around the block"
This petite and impeccably dressed elderly woman did not respond. I figured she simply did not hear what I had said.
When she entered the bus I repeated that I was indeed a No. 8, hoping to prevent her getting on the wrong bus. "I know where I am going!" she spewed with the sort of vigor reserved for a Jerry Springer show. Startled by the force of her tone, I attempted to allay her hostility by explaining that I had thought she may have boarded my bus by mistake. Before I could even finish my explanation, she screamed at me abruptly in a glass shattering pitch: "SHUT UP!"
Although I was raised to treat elderly people with kindness and respect, I felt compelled to comment on her wildly rude response. Before I could get two words out, however, this geriatric pugilist silenced me with yet another ear-splicing: "SHUT UP!"
Not content to merely berate me, the 90-pound dynamo started complaining about the injustices that had befallen her; for instance, I learned that her status as a taxpayer overseeing lowly public servants served as the basis of her tirade. She ended her harangue by threatening to report me to the proper authorities so I could be duly punished.
Responding to this diminutive fireball only would have fueled the flames of her discontent. As I listened to this 80-something's diatribe, I felt like I was in an epidode of the Twilight Zone, locked in a room with the anti-Mother Teresa. Eventually, this embittered Lilliputian left the bus, wagging her finger at me the whole time. I took a moment to reflect upon what had just transpired, and concluded that there was no explanation-like random bird droppings on the head, "s**t happens."
In the grand scheme of things, this raging granny's tongue-lashing was a minor aberration, and served more as fodder for the drivers' bull pen than as a serious concern.
Lesson learned: Passengers are like a box of chocolates-some are quite a bit less sweet than the others.
Columnist Joe Kadushin can be reached at editor@south-districtjournal.com.
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