Puffin' on the Bus

Sometimes I just don't get how it is that people can do the lamest things on a bus and believe it's okay. Lame things like peeing on the floor, putting gum under the seats, talking loudly on a cell phone, carrying on a conversation with a friend who is sitting six rows away, drinking alcohol, having sex, opening the window which is actually an emergency exit, letting a child run up and down the aisle while the bus is moving, changing a child's diaper and leaving the crap-filled diaper under the seat, to name a few.

I've seen them all and sooner or later, a story will be posted about each, but today's blog entry is about puffin' on the bus.

Several years ago, while driving late night 80's, I picked up a fairly attractive young lady at a bus stop on Van Ness. Her eyes were blown (full pupils, no iris color), her speech was slurred and she was in a trance-like state. (Hint -- think drug abuse).

Since I've shed my law enforcement authority, I have to ignore this aspect of human behavior. Eight years ago, she would have been going to jail and booked on an 11550 H&S - Under the Influence charge, but since I am no longer a cop, I just have to let it slide and let her ride the bus.

As she struggled to put her fare into the box (another hint -- dropping coins in an over-sized slot is not like a game of chance; it's just not that difficult), I noticed that she was tightly grasping a cylindrical glass object in her right hand. (another clue -- it was a crack pipe).

I gave her a short speech about the perils of drug abuse and focused my fatherly lecture on the evils of smoking crack on public transit buses. She promised that she would obey the rules and not light one off until after she had reached her destination.

She walked to the back of the bus (another hint -- the back of the bus is where shit happens) and settled into the last row, corner seat. I adjusted my rear view mirror so I could watch her as I drove, to ensure her compliance with the "no puffin" rule.

All was good as we drove down Van Ness; all was good as we drove down Lombard. We passed the toll plaza and all was still okay on the bus. As I passed beneath the south tower of the bridge, I began to feel a smug sense of satisfaction in my abilities to get a message across. Maybe, I thought, some people did listen and did understand the dangers of drug abuse.

But then, I saw it. I saw a spark of light from the back of the bus and then the pungent, acrid smell of crack cocaine. How could she do this to me? Here we were, mid-span, and there was not a thing I could do about it at this point. It was well past midnight and no road supervisors were available. My last hope was in the Bridge Police who I had just passed at the toll plaza. What was I to do. I made an announcement on the PA, ordering her to stop smoking which she didn't heed.

I quickened my pace to Marin City where I opened the doors to air out the bus, walked to the back of the bus and ordered her out. She said she wasn't leaving unless I gave her a transfer. Two of her fellow male passengers decided to take on the role of saviour and challenged my authority to turn her out of the warm bus and into the cold night.

I invited them as well to leave the bus without a transfer. When they refused, I informed them that I would get them a transfer and proceeded to call the Sheriff. When they protested, I explained that they had asked for a transfer and I was accommodating them by offering them a transfer into the back seat of the next available police cruiser.

With that, the dope smoker and her newly found friends left the bus and I continued on my way.