A Brooklyn Bus Ride, by Gene Bray

  1. I get on the B61. 2 stops up a tiny lady, maybe Mexican, gets on with a 60 inch tv, holding it the way you march with a rifle. It soars 2 feet above her head. The tv that makes you feel like you’re in a movie theater. The tv that also makes your neighbors feel like they’re in a movie theater.

She also has a big phone in the other hand.  Here’s a disaster waiting to happen.  Luckily, the first seat was empty.
Next stop Ikea. A man, maybe 50, sits beside the tv girl.  He’s eating an ice cream cone. It looks strange,  because he’s lean and strong. Usually when adults get on a bus with poor dietary choices, they are way overweight.  Like the folks with the instant diabetes size sodas..…an 8o gram bomb of high fructose corn syrup that makes your pancreas freak out.
Here comes a guy about 60 sprinting for the bus. He sprints like I do. [ I’m 69 ] The first step is quick, then the body immediately shuts it down.
But the arms keep moving fast, and the feet glide like you’re ice skating. He’s moving like Fred Astaire.

He made it. I wonder how often old timers running for the bus face plant on the concrete?

Next stop, a lot of folks get on. As an old woman with a cane approaches, I get up to give her my seat. But the young  guy in front of her takes it. I want to say something, but remember what my mother always told me. “You’ll never go wrong keeping your mouth shut.

Next stop, I get out the back door and get in the front again, right behind a woman, maybe 50, wearing a mask and hospital gloves.  I see her often.

She never holds on, I guess because the poles are dirty. As the bus pulls off she loses her balance.

“You better hold on,”  I say, then I turn and face the driver.

The bus stops at the next light, but she doesn’t, bumping me and falling by the coin box. It was a magnificent fall in slow motion. Her body took over and protected itself the best way possible. I hate to say it, but it was a perfect 10.

I’m lucky she gave me a glancing blow. She could have frantically grabbed me and both of us would have hit the floor.

I reach down and offer my forearm to help her up. She ignores the gesture. Ice cream guy appears and says  “Why don’t you help her?”

“I offered but she didn’t accept.”

I wanted to say “Why didn’t you give her your seat motherfucker?”  But my mothers words are  still protecting me.

I’m glad she refused my offer because she might have pulled me down.  After 2 falls she might have really gotten hurt. Me too. All that might have given the driver a heart attack. A 3 ambulance fall.

So she took ice cream cones seat, and seemed a little embarrassed, but otherwise ok.

I hope to see her getting on the bus soon. I will rush to her and make sure she grabs a dirty pole. Or even better, ask someone to give up their seat. With a gentle voice of course.

Mom would be proud.

Share:

Facebook
Twitter
LinkedIn

Comments are closed.

READ OUR FULL PRINT EDITION

Our Sister Publication

a word from our sponsors!

Latest Media Guide!

Where to find the Star-Revue

Instagram

How many have visited our site?

wordpress hit counter

Social Media

Most Popular

On Key

Related Posts

120 Waterfront acres and a plan, by George Fiala

There was a time when the NYC waterfront was a blighted mess. When I first started working in New York, first in the Village where encounter the Hudson River, and then here in Brooklyn, and the East River, I took for granted that the burned out piers I saw were an indication that the city just didn’t care about the

Walt Kuhn: A Red Hook A-Lister , by Joe Enright

Internet pages curated by that new cyber sensation sweeping the nation, Artificial (“Arty”) Intel & His Zombies, now list about three dozen carbon units as famous “Persons/Red Hook.” Many of them never spent much time here (Notorious B.I.G., e.g.), while others lived in Gowanus and South Brooklyn (Joey Gallo, Jimmy Iovine, e.g.) – close enough when zombies call the shots

WALKING WITH COFFEE: THE MOVEABLE CUBICLE, by R.J. Cirillo

In old black and white photos and movies, office workers were always depicted in huge rooms containing multiple desks, where they manned (or womanned) telephones and typewriters.  There were no barriers between them and I’m sure while doing their assigned tasks they would interact with each other. At a certain point in business history, to maximize efficiency, it was decided