Da Bus -- Part 2

Her father was a school custodian (a dear man who I miss a lot) and she grew up in a working class, ethnically diverse neighborhood near the cement plant where many of the residents worked, inhaling lime in the days before OSHA. Many of her childhood friends were bus people, if they managed not to end up in prison. Recently she has managed medical research focusing on the healthcare deficiencies of the Lakota reservations, where the cancer mortality rate is twice that of the general population. What she encountered broke her heart. At one point, they had no choice but to put an immunosupressed patient on a bus for treatment in Omaha.

So we hug and kiss, and I head onto the bus. No, I don't want to sit in THAT seat. It's filthy and the seat is torn, with the foam rubber exposed. Well, OK, ALL the seats are like that, and a couple have hand-lettered signs on them, warning not to sit there. I chose a seat toward the back with an oily stain over the one with the hairball behind the cushion. From my previous bus experiences I had already determined to eat and drink as little as possible, to avoid the necessity of using the "washroom."

A middle-aged woman and a blind man are talking. She says, "I took a vow of poverty." And he laughs and says, "Well, apparently I did, too."

Behind me is the skinny Indian or Hispanic woman with the missing front tooth and the two cute little kids -- I would guess 6 and 4. The kids start off well-behaved and the mother starts off patient, but it's going to be a 20-hour ride for them to Chicago.

Through a series of overheard cellphone conversations, I'm able to piece together their story. First it was "I've been trying since 6 p.m. last night to reach him, but they say there's no one there by that name, and they won't even tell me if he's been discharged." Eventually he calls, and she says "I got the kids back, but I had to get on the very next bus. And I've been trying to reach you since 6 p.m. yesterday." And then more calls where she tells friends that he has finally called, from a detox center.

Only three hours into the long ride and the kids are starting to act like kids. How long? I told you we'd be on the bus all day, and we'll get to Chicago when you wake up tomorrow. What's this place? The toys loose their appeal as we make a series of stops by gas station convenience stores to take on more passengers and allow the smokers to take a few puffs. Lots of smokers among bus people.

(to be continued)