I Love DC: Metro Bus Zen or How Do I Love Thee? No, Really How?

Things are changing on the X2 bus line. There are now a whole lotta riders of the middle class Caucasian persuasion.  I find myself being irritated by them. Here are some of the things that they do that I find irritating (taken from actual occurrences):


1) It's morning rush hour. I am sitting in the priority seats at the front of the bus. Two visibly healthy young white men get on the bus. One of them sits and leaves the seat right next to me empty. His friend remains standing and is pretty much blocking the aisle as people get on for the next 2 stops. Without knowing for certain it seems like he is specifically reluctant to sit right next to me. 

After a couple of stops with people having to squeeze by him he finally sits next to me. I can feel the fear on them. They are afraid to be on this bus. Maybe they are afraid to be on any bus. I'll allow that this could be it. But, I would guess it is the presence of all the black people that has them trying to wall themselves off with folded arms and oblivion. [Bus etiquette note: If you sit in the priority seats and you are not old or disabled or pregnant or carrying a child in your arms you must be prepared to get your ass up and move.]  


When I see that a hunched over old woman is about to board I get up and move further back in the bus.  She takes my seat. Two stops later a woman gets on walking with a cane and 2 men get on who look to be 70 years old and also walking with canes. The men struggle down the aisle to some available seats. The two young white men do not move. They avert their eyes from the woman leaning on her cane in front of them. But she is not averting her eyes from them. The more intently she looks at them the deeper they delve into their own, apparently important, conversation.

Finally, a black middle aged woman gives up her seat to the woman with the cane. This is her signal to begin "loud talking" the white guys.  She is publicly shaming them for their indifference to her. They just keep talking like she is not holding up their behavior for public examination. These seats are theirs, dammit. Or so their actions would say.  

2) Morning rush hour again. I am not in the back of the bus. But, I'm near the back door. I'm on the aisle sitting next to an older woman with a cane. She is taking up part of the seat meant for me. But that's okay. Between her cane and her shopping bag she needs a little extra space. Just the same, as we ride along she adjusts to give me more room.



The bus is filling with people as is almost always the case for this bus line, regardless of the time of day. But rush hour means we get packed in like oily fish. This means the aisles are jammed when she rings the bell for the next stop. She smiles at me to acknowledge the endeavor that she now faces - making her way through this crowd with her bag and her cane. I smile back so that she knows I am on this like stink on a pig.


Right before the bus stops I stand and slide into the aisle. Standing there is a white man who looks to be in his late 20s. He is texting. I stand right next to him and say, "excuse me". He does not move. I lean in very close and directly in his ear I say, "Xkuze me". He does not look at me. But, he does move. In the meantime, the bus has stopped and my seat mate is on her feet.

I turn back to her. "Which way do you want to go, sis"? I point to the back and front doors. "That way," she says nodding to the back. I turn back to Mr. Too-Busy-Texting-To-Care. In the voice that I use to demonstrate my power I say, "step that way" and use my body to make him move his.  But, now my seat mate has realized that she really shouldn't be trying to get off the back door what with the bag and the cane. I see it in her face.


So I yell, "coming off" and know that this should clear the aisle for her heading to the front. Right before I move out of her way I say to him, "step aside please".  And something happens. He sees us; me and the old woman. "Oh, sorry," he offers finally. 


I feel the irritation. The weariness of fighting against being erased. By the time I am sitting again I have let it go; only wishing that I could have gone without feeling it at all. And then just a moment after that I'm just grateful that I could let it go. Grateful that I had enough mojo to finally be seen and to clear a path for someone else.