Hieronymus Bus

Take a look at the painting above (Hieronymus Bosch, circa 1500 c.e.) and refer back to it as I relate the saga of Juli and I on the #4 bus to Harborview Medical Center on Wednesday:

I figured out a direct bus route from Queen Anne to Harborview, woke Juli ("we have to catch a bus in 20 minutes!"), and we hoofed up to the Metro Market. We took two seats near the middle of the bus. Imagine my chagrin as we wound around the back side of Queen Anne hill and ended up on 3rd street, about 15 minutes later than if we had taken the usual #2 or #13! I was about to do a major mea culpa to Juli on how stupid I was to have routed us on the #4, when the next passenger came aboard with a fake bus pass. Or was it expired? In any case, the bus driver told him that he couldn't get on, and instead, he blew her off and strode down the aisle to take a seat. It was an omen of greater outrages to come.

At Third & Pine, the unwashed masses crammed aboard, filling the bus to capacity in the aisles, complete with many pieces of luggage, including a man with a bucket of cat litter on a wheeled cart (what?), and a screaming fight broke out between two women in the back.

"Get your @#$%&*! hands off my bag, @#$%&*!"
"Who you callin' a @#$%&*!, @#$%&*! ?"
Etc.

At Third and Seneca, the bus driver had to lower the handicap lift, and started shooing passengers out of their seats to accomodate two wheelchairs coming aboard. There was an ugly, grumbling mood emerging as everyone packed towards the back even tighter. The screaming women-fight continued, and was now joined by a certified crazy, yelling at his dead father:

"Daddy, I know you're up in heaven with Mama now, but even though it's been three weeks since you died, I've got to tell you about the time I set fire to the cat..." Etc.

While this was going on, the wheelchaired passengers were getting on, the bus driver was struggling with the safety straps and yelling for everyone to move back, move further back. This was met with further grumbling, and people in the back started yelling, "No room, no room!"

It was beginning to look like we would be late for Juli's neurology appointment. At the corner of Third and James, eight old Chinese women, chattering loudly at each other in non-stop Mandarin, got on the bus. The bus driver tried to prevent them from getting on board, but they just kept yelling and shoving everyone tighter until the aisles looked like the proverbial sardine can. "Oh good," said Juli, "that was just what this bus was missing!" The bus belched, groaned and turned up the steep hill.

At the next corner, one of the wheelchaired passengers yelled that he needed to alight. The whole bus started chanting "Off, off, off!" The bus driver stopped on the side of the hill, tried to convince the Chinese women that they needed to get off so she could get the wheelchair out, but they refused to budge. The screaming fight was still going on, someone in the back started wailing that there was no air, and everyone squeezed even tighter, while the poor man in the non-motorized wheelchair struggled to roll himself uphill to get to the ramp, sliding backwards several times. No one packed around him thought to give him a helping push, but the man behind me yelled, "Lemme off the bus, you ol' hag!" Several other passengers tittered at this supposed witticism.

The whole bus was in full-fledged revolt by the time we got to Ninth. The man behind me kept yelling imprecations at the bus driver, ending each with "you ol' hag." The titterers continued tittering every time he said it. Up near the front, a woman was yelling at the bus driver while she was trying to drive, "I'm going to get you fired! You don't care about nothin' and as soon as I get off this @#$%&*! bus, I'm going to get your @#$%&*! fired!" The crazy was still calling to his dead father. The odor of Cat Litter Bucket-Man was wafting. The two women in back were still screaming about who had whose hands on the bag.

At last, the ride from hell stopped at Ninth & Jefferson. It was like watching a clown car disgorge an endless parade of passengers. Most stopped to insult or yell at the driver as they debarked, and the most verbal of the rabble kept up the rudeness instead of just getting off the bus. Juli and I could finally stand up from our seats and get off.

"Ack!" said Jules, "I feel like I need to take a shower!"

"I've been rolling my eyes for so long, I can't focus," I complained.

"I thought about what would happen next, " Juli mused, "but all I could think of was that the roof hatches would open and snakes would pour through."

"Well, thank God THAT didn't happen!"

We kept shaking our heads and sighing dismay at the complete lack of civility we had just witnessed. And to be honest, laughing at each individual piece of the nightmare we just experienced.

"The Cat Litter Guy!"
"The eight Chinese!"
"The dead-father man!"
"The bus pass scofflaw!"

When the nurse at the desk told us we were 3 hours early (I had gotten the appointment time wrong), we walked in the sunshine, went to the art museum and had lunch in the cafe. Her appointment was almost anticlimactic.

On the bus home, a couple of drug-dealing teenagers started arguing loudly in incomprehensible ghetto-slang...and then Juli gave a derisive snort and started to laugh. I couldn't help but giggle too. In just a few moments, we were both guffawing uncontrollably, holding our sides, gasping for breath, tears rolling down our cheeks.

The teens stopped their arguing to stare at us. We couldn't stop laughing. They got off disgustedly at the next stop, unwilling to share their space with two crazy-girls.

New rule: Don't EVER take the #4 ANYWHERE!