Two days a week I get on a bus at the GW Bridge and take about a 10-minute bus ride to the building where InTouch magazine is. Just to be close to the magazine. No no, of course I work there. One stop after I get on, a large group of Mexicans get on the bus; at this point the bus is almost perfectly divided between the Mexicans, and white people like me going to InTouch or one of the sister magazines in the same building. And I've noticed that there is zero interaction between these two groups. We each sit on our respective sides of the bus not looking at each other. Where the fuck am I, I thought the other day. Selma, Alabama, ca20091950? For once, instead of waiting for someone else to break through the wall between us, I decided it was up to me to broker some common geniality.
But how? I am a simple man. And I don't speak Spanish. How could I get through to EVERYbody, not only the Mexicans on the "other side"?
Then it dawned on me exactly what to do.
I leaned my head against the large bus window, and looked bleakly out at Ft. Lee as we drove through it. The bus was almost completely silent. And then from my seat, against the window, a quiet voice started slowly rising.
Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand
I didn't even look around, I kept looking out the window, knowing that someone on the other side would know when to come in.
Jesus freaks out in the street, Handing tickets out for God
Turning back she just laughs, (CUE! come in, someone else!! Now! MAGIC TIME!) The boulevard is not that bad
Hmm....nobody joined in. Total silence. I continued; maybe they were waiting for a different line?
Piano man he makes his stand, In the auditorium (someone shouts out "shut the fuck up!" But this person was from my side of the bus - hey dude, I'm not singing just for you!! I continued)
Looking on she sings the songs, The words she knows the tune she hums
At this point someone from the other side of the bus shouted something at me. But as I said, I do not speak Spanish, so I have no idea if it was "shut the fuck up!" or "when should we all come in??!" So. I continued.
But oh how it feels so real, Lying here with no one near
Only you and you can hear me, When I say softly slowly
Okay, nothing so far - but here comes the chorus! There's no WAY they'll be able to resist the chorus; by the end of it we'll all be singing together, slapping each other cinco! This is it!!!! I stood up, turned to look at everybody, and fucking belted it out at the top of my lungs
Hold me closer tiny dancer
Count the headlights on the highway
Lay me down in sheets of linen
You had a busy day today
I stopped singing, breathing heavily, sweat beading, and opened my eyes...and all the Mexicans were streaming by me, not even looking up at me, filing off the bus as per usual. I looked around to "my team." Zero eye contact. So I slumped back down in my chair, head against the window, looking out. And wondering what will I do tomorrow to bring these groups of people together once and for all. Sigh.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Xmastime Movie Memories
Almost Famous.
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3 comments:
2 days a week?!?!?! My heart bleeds for you! Try doing it 5 days a week for 2 and a half years, ya big sissy! And, as much as you are trying to make a cultural/ racial divide thing out of the monstrous hell that is NJ Transit bus 186 commute, as it bucks and coughs over the GW Bridge, it is something else entirely. Bus 186 is, in fact, the great unifier! Oh, my, dear Rot, you are so young--well, no--and naive! Bus 186 takes folks from wildly disparate cultural and economic and lingual backgrounds and packs them in together and subjects each and every one to the same experience: It treats them to the visual urban wreckage that is Fort Lee. It wrenches them--with every rotation of the bus wheel--away from culture, music, home, family, friends, and a kinda-functioning metropolis. It subjects them all to the north Jersey suburban horror-scape. And, worst of all, it rips ALL HOPE from the heart of every living soul on board. It is essentially the bus to Shawshank, just with better hoagies! So, you see, Bus 186 is the great equalizer!
No one chimed in because they were all silently hoping the bus might just bust an axle and plunge into the Hudson, the afterlife at least offering the chance of a better future. Which certainly does not await them on the distant, garish shores of New Jersey.
ps I was only Anonymous b/c I didn't know my fucking Google account number quatsch!
Love,
Keith Campbell
bus to Shawshank!! :)
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