Bus Culture

When I was going to grad school, trying to be a wife and mom, and working, I was employed at UC. I thought I'd take the bus to save on parking fees--plus I thought I'd be able to read and study.

Since I hadn't been on a bus since I was a small child, I was a little nervous about all those practical things like finding the right bus, bus stop, correct change, transfers, etc. I got through those beginnings and began to notice some behaviors that seemed to be unique to bus travelers.

The TANK bus was my longest ride, and by the time the bus got to my stop (last one before the interstate), it was usually crowded. These people were usually just trying to get downtown to work. Most of the regulars knew each other and conversed the entire way. They discussed their families, work, the bus, their vacations, all very friendly. There were also those who just wanted to zone out into their own little world, either by taking a nap, reading or doing some other activity. My intention was to be one of the latter, but I found I was listening to all the conversation of these suburban people (mostly women), and finally engaged in conversation myself.

Sometimes, the regulars acted as a unit--Once on the trip home, a young Mexican man, not more than 19, got on the bus and sat down. We crossed the river from Cincinnati, and stopped in Covington and the bus driver told the young man to get off the bus. Instantly we all were interested and tuned in. Obviously the young man knew very little English, and could not tell the driver where he needed to go. It seemed obvious to me and I think the other bus riders, that he was lost, and he couldn't communicate. The driver told us the young man was on his bus route earlier and rode it into Cincinnati, and he had to tell him to get off then. At this time it was starting to get dark, and one of the women on the bus said, "you are not kicking that young man off the bus in Covington at night! He is lost! We need to help him out, not throw him out!" The driver continued his route.

At this point, several people wracked their brains to remember their high school Spanish! I tried to draw a picture of the Ohio River and landmarks that could help him tell us where he wanted to go. We had no luck, until the driver exited the interstate and the young man became animated when he recognized something! When the driver stopped, we were across from the police department. Three of the women tried to tell the young man that they would help him find his way home. One of them knew a local police officer who spoke Spanish, but we were worried he would be frightened of the police. He wasn't. He just seemed to instinctively trust the women, and knew they were going to help him.

The next evening, we talked about what happened, found out the police did indeed have an interpreter, and were able to get him home safely.