Miffed!

Before I put one foot on the Number 13 bus this afternoon, the bus driver managed to piss me off!   Not only that, but she continued to tug and nag at my patience until finally before getting off the bus at University Avenue in City Heights, I decided that I would leave her with a strong, deafening tone in her ears.  Literally!  

This afternoon, desperate to get out of Will's house and out of City Heights, I found enough loose change in the bottom of my bag to treat myself to coffee.  Good coffee had become a small personal luxury that--at one time, would have never brought me as much happiness as it does today.  I refused to settle for a quick trip to Starbucks in City Heights, instead choosing to ride the bus to North Park and visit the Starbucks in that neighborhood.  By doing this, I would ensure that I would not have to sit staring at young, Hispanic teenagers making out in a corner or being harassed by young kids, begging for a dollar; these two, which are very common sights at the Starbucks in City Heights.  No, in North Park, I would be able to sit at one of the sidewalk tables, smoke a cigarette and enjoy my coffee.  Of course, even in North Park, I would probably have to endure the homeless person, walking by and stopping to beg for an extra cigarette--it was tit for tat, really.  And I simply wanted to be there.  But back to the bus ride.

The #13 arrived at my stop and I readied myself to climb aboard when instantly, I was greeted with this bus driver's stern voice.  The middle-aged, heavy set Black woman immediately held her hand up, indicating for me to stop.  

"I wanted you to stop so this lady to get off the bus." She said.  Only then could I see another older, heavy-set Black woman slowly making her way up the aisle.  And I do mean slowly.  In her right hand was a cane, used to assist her walking.  In her left hand was a metal shopping cart.  The woman tried, unsuccessfully to maneuver both the cane and the cart.  As if that wasn't enough, this woman and the bus driver were trying to have a conversation!  Obviously they knew one another.  

"Are you gonna be okay getting off at this stop?" The bus driver asked.  "Is anyone coming to pick you up, girl?" 

"Oh yes," Miss Slow-Poke responded.  Not only did she respond, but she had to stop all motion in order to do so.  And she had yet to reach the exit of the bus!  The bus driver, seeing me still standing outside, waiting, took the opportunity to volunteer me to assist the slow-moving, heavy set woman with exiting the bus.  

"I'm sure this young man will be happy to help you off of the bus," the bus driver said loud enough that I'm sure the rest of grim-faced riders could hear.  I took the shopping cart first and placed it on the side walk then offered my arm for her to grab.  The slow moving, heavy set woman  gripped my arm with such a strong grasp that even I was shocked at the firmness.  The flesh of my arm in her grasp and shaking at the same time, the woman slowly lowered herself down from the bus and onto the pavement.  All of this took roughly four minutes!  I entered the bus with a huff and took the first seat roughly three feet behind the driver.  I dug into my bag, fished out my iPod, plugged in my ear buds and set about tuning this whole scene out.  

And that's when bus driver started up again.  I was listening to I:Cube and trying not to make eye contact with anyone when the lady sitting directly across from me started waving her hands to get my attention.  She pointed towards the bus driver.  Meanwhile, the bus driver was also trying to get my attention.  

"Your music is up way too loud."  The bus driver told me.  I'd gotten out of my seat and was now standing next to her while she continued to steer the bus along Fairmount Avenue.   

"But I'm wearing headphones.  How could you possibly hear the music?"

"Well, the good Lord has blessed me with having to wear a hearing aid.  The high pitched ping pong coming from your music--I can hear it." She informed me.  I couldn't believe this! 

"Can you hear it now?" I asked.  I removed the earbuds from my ears and lowered the volume.  

"Yes, I can hear it. If you could just turn it down lower." 

I huffed and returned to my seat.  I was tempted to argue with this bus driver, but what I really wanted was for her to get the bus to the next stop, which was where I was going to get off.   By now, everyone was staring at me, trying to figure out what I'd done to upset the bus driver.   I was miffed at this woman.  I couldn't understand how her having a hearing aid was suddenly my issue.   We were a block away from my stop when I got an idea.  

The bus stopped at University Avenue.  Half of the people on the bus, including myself began to exit.  As I came closer to the bus driver, I reached into my bag and fingered my iPod. 

I inched closer to the door and the bus driver.  Closer.  Closer.  

When I was just beyond her right shoulder and with rapid speed, I increased the volume on my iPod, ensuring that this mean bus driver lady got a full blast of Adore by I:Cube (complete with the ping pong).  I looked at the disturbed look on her face and smiled.  She opened her mouth as if to say something, but it didn't matter.  I stepped off of the Number 13 bus, feeling satisfied with myself.