WESTWARD CH 2: UGLY BUS

[The Urbane Spaceman]

Born poor?

Make friends with the woods. Hug a tree. Use your bare feet to climb. Find the top. Good young brown ash trees bend, and they won’t break. Hop off as their tops sail to the bottom of the air. You land on solid ground.


Find snakes. In Maine, there are three.

The Garter will bite you and make blood. But it won’t kill you. No poison, no fangs, just sharp mouths. They guard the woods. They are protective, and you have to respect the work that they are charged to perform.


Brown snakes have an orange necklace, but they are not as mean as the Garter. They’ll snap at you, but you can make them pets. They are the ladies of the forest.


Green snakes are friendly. They are the hardest to find, and the most slippery to grab. They are the emeralds of the forest. Set them loose in your house for fun and enjoyment.


I had heard about snakes that do other kinds of harm, but I'd never met one.





We stood out in the pouring rain, first in line by the luggage compartment, and the bus driver held his umbrella over our little tribe. He let the rain poured down on him. Of course, he was wearing a rain clicker and his bus driver’s cap. But still, a gentleman.

I watched what Mom did; how she handled things.


Mom told the bus driver, she said, “Please keep these plastic bags safe. These are my children’s clothing. Set my luggage around them in the last compartment so no one can ruin them.”


Bus driver said, “We waiting for their father? I could hold the bus.”

Mom looked him in the eye. She said, “He passed after a long bout of cancer. We’re making a new life. Place where it’s hot and sunny. A dry heat.”


She slipped him a damn twenty dollar bill.


It was all true, what she had said, but she left out the two years of her leaving us to fend for ourselves as she went off and then came back often, but not all that frequently.


Kimmer raised us during that time, you see. And now, we were leaving Kimmer to take care of the baby she had inside her.


Bus driver nodded, looking down at Mom.

He said, “Ma’am, good luck in your new life. I’ll tell the next driver after I change out with him when my shift is done driving this here bus.”

Then he handed the money back to her.

He said, “You just take care of your little ones, and we’ll keep mindful of you.”

Yup. Good people. You just have to recognize when you see them.



However, we were jungle kids.


We had no clue about public transportation. It was a friggin adventure, and we would make the lives of the passengers a living hell. But, ya know, form joy and exploration, not form being asshole kids.


We spent the day running up and down the aisle to talk to all these new, interesting people. Some talked to us, some ignored us, and some growled at Mom. She collected the little birds and me and we settled down to each bus stop sammiches.


Time for a drink. Join me, wontcha? This next stretch of road will be a bit bumpy.



Caveat: This next part has nothing to do with drinking, although Lovely Miss Ethyl is involved.

When it comes to people doing bad things, then that is because they have something inside them that seeks to get out. They hide it from others, for whatever reason, and gawds help them for their own demons, or how they have become that way. Anything that lowers their restraint will be blamed, instead of the evil that lurks within them. Some blame the intoxication, and others blame themselves, as if they were evil. Maybe they are not, but they’ve been touched by a bad seed that infects them.

Drinking in and of itself is good, once you’ve mastered it. Doing this takes practice and skill. As with any art form; learn how to view the stars from the highest vantage. Dance if you can. But refuse to slip and fall into the abyss. Otherwise, you will not be able to do it again. Be mindful of the risk that comes form the pursuit of the joy.



FIRST NIGHT


Mom had her nightcap at the rear of the bus. She sat with her back to the wall so that she could watch the doors. One for the entrance up at the head front of the bus, and the one for the portapotty that was behind me. It was located curbside, for easy access to the shit sucker hose connection. I sat with my sister as she laid in a nest of blankets, her pillow just below the window.


Mom had the youngest one with her on the other side of the aisle.


Before New York State, something weird happened. I was not asleep yet, but my eyes were closed. It’s hard for me to sleep in anything moving, unless it’s a hammock, like a baby crib on the treetop. Always been this way. Jungle kid.


Mom would awaken every time the bus hit a pot hole, or swerved, or when someone walked down the aisle to the bathroom. She truly did sleep with one eye slightly open. I don’t know why her eye never dried out.



Footfalls thumped and staggered down the aisle from the front of the bus as they lurched closer.

Someone paused above us and I heard mom say, “Move your ass. Don’t fuck around here.”


The large dark figure went and used the restroom and then came back out and then staggered away back up to the front of the bus. My eyes were open in the dark.


She reached over the aisle and touched my shoulder. She said, “Watch out for that one. Got a bad sense about him.”



EARLY MORNING, DARK



We stopped to change drivers, somewhere in upper state New York. I looked out the window over my little bird and watched our bus driver on the curb talking to the new driver under the streetlight. He pointed back to where we were seated. He couldn’t see us, but was pointing at me. The new guy nodded and they shook hands.


Those who were awake got off the bus to stretch their legs and moved the blood clots around, but everyone else remained on the bus, asleep. I was tempted to go check out the bus stop, and when I stood up, Mom touched my arm. She said, “Remember your charge. You are protecting that one, there.”


I nodded and slunk back against the seat. Damn. Here we were, on an adventure, and I was stuck there, sitting in front of the shit hole. Such a waste. I never got to do anything. Mom was full of shit. She was too protective, even though we never saw her all that much lately.


I finally went to sleep. I had angry dreams.


MORNING INTO DAYTIME


I smelled pork sausage and eggs and butter. I dreamt of a land of pancake clouds, with rivers that ran with maple syrup, and a giant mountain made of candy. I opened my eyes and saw that Mom was waving a Big Breakfast form a restaurant with a name that rhymes with Dickey Me.


I ate pancakes and eggs and sausage with maple syrup. I spilled the syrup on my shirt. I would smell this for the remainder of the trip. I was Ok with that.


We ran about the bus as we did, damned kids, but no one would have much to do with us. Those who were in for the long haul were also quite ripe. The new folks, onboard for their short trip, viewed us as abhorrent, in our stinkiness.



I walked up to the front of the bus to look out of the huge window up there.

The bus driver said, “Son, you have to stay behind the white line.”

I said, “What’s the difference between me standing back here, and me standing forward of it?”



He said, “If I swerve, you might knock against my arm and kill us all. Please stay behind the white line.”

I said, “Yes Sir.”


I turned around and saw that there was an empty seat where you had a view of the front screen. You just had to stand on the seat to see it. Hell, I could watch the road form a high vantage. The big guy sitting there pointed at the seat next to him.



He said, “You wanna sit here for a while?

I nodded. I said, “I’d like to stand, sir, so to see the road.”


He nodded and climbed out. I hopped into the seat in there and he sat back down. I stood up and watched the road. It was quite marvelous.


After a while, my legs began to tire form the rocking back and forth of the bus so I sat down. I sat and looked out the window. That was when I felt a big hand creep up my thigh. I was wearing shorts. Fingers started to slide up and they got close to my private parts. I swung around and stared the big guy in the face. I could see him now. He had a kind face. It was a bit scruffy and dirty, but he was smiling.



He said, “Shhh. Don’t say anything. Be a good boy.”


He fingers went up further. I was scared. I had never had such a thing happen to me before. I said, “what the heck are you doing?!”


He said, “Don’t talk too loud. I could hurt your momma if you say anything to her. Shhh.”



I jumped up. I said, “FUCK!”


I scrambled up the back of the seat like it was a tree. I knew about snakes, and I knew about trees. I could climb.


So I climbed over the seats and heads of several rows of people, pushing my sneakers into their sammiches, their tits, and their faces. They stood up and hollered at me after I did those things.


That was when all hell broke loose.


They were screaming. They were saying things like this:

“You damn Injuns!”

“You smelly damned redskins! Someone ought to scalp YOU!”

“Keep control of these damned kids!”

“How does a mother leave her children to run amok?”

“Police need to be involved! Take them from her! That’s bad parenting!”


…and so forth.



Mom came running up the aisle, leaving the little ones behind. She grabbed me from my scramble and set me down in the aisle and shouted into my face. I saw it. She was in a rage. I had seen this before.


She said, “What the hell is wrong with you boy? Why are you going crazy?!”

I said, “Mom! That man was touching my private parts!”



All of the faces staring at us went quiet.


The bus slowed down.


Mom did not slow down. She said, “Which one of these people did this to you, son?”


The bus stopped.


The bus driver stood up and said, “Everyone calm down! Stop shouting!”


He shouted this over and over again until he was the only one shouting.


I saw the bus door open, but no one else did. I was the only one looking.


I saw the bad snake slither off the bus. I pointed at him as he ran away.

Mom said, “Step aside, son.”

She pushed the driver aside.

Then, everyone saw an angry Injun momma bear chase after a violator of one of her cubs.


They saw her leap, grab and pummel that big bastard. Thank goodness she didn’t have her hunting knife on her. She would have gutted him. We were traveling without our rifles, you know. That was good, for once.


No one on that bus got to where they were going for quite a bit of time on that hot day.

Others were there for a bit longer.

One ended up staying there for a couple years.


Momma had to go back a couple times. To make it set.



Ya know.


Time for another DRINK!


Drink to mother bears who protect their cubs.


Amen.



.

[oettinger]

Wow!

You wonder for how long that coffee would last in your bloodstream.

Talking about sleeping in moving things:

Ferry from italy to tunisia I was on got into a serious thunderstorm. When things move up and down 30 feet wiithout you seeing it, it becomes quite terrifying.
Me and my brother knew as little well traveled children to move outside for fresh air and watch the waves.
Stupid thing: It was pitch-dark on the mediterranean sea.
Our parents started looking for us, they thought we went over board haha.
The ferry didn`t stop though, should we have gone overboard there would have been no way in hell the`d be able to find our tiny corpses.
Some crew members speaking german even talked to us while having a smoke outside and left again.
It was some person with some authority that ordered us inside the vomit pile again. Then we were found by parent`s friends.

[Dear Booze]

Fantastic story. Please keep it coming. And please don't be slow about it.

[oettinger]

Fantastic story. Please keep it coming. And please don't be slow about it.

Dear Booze! Nice to see (or read?) you, how ya doing?

[Dear Booze]

Fantastic story. Please keep it coming. And please don't be slow about it.

Dear Booze! Nice to see (or read?) you, how ya doing?

I'm doing just dandy, thank you. I've been traveling a lot and am finally catching up on my reading.

Glad to be back.

[oldsmartskunk]

Glad to see yer arse back Dear Boozensmith. Pwese be mor active and/or drunk.

[The Urbane Spaceman]

Dear Reader,

please know that my intention is to write these true tales form my youth.

It's simply that there has been a lot of deaths in my Tribe.

I will post a fresh one tomorrow. Yup.


DRINK!

[oettinger]

Dear Reader,

please know that my intention is to write these true tales form my youth.

It's simply that there has been a lot of deaths in my Tribe.

I will post a fresh one tomorrow. Yup.


DRINK!

Great news!


Oh shit, no, not those, fuck, sorry, ok I`m out...

[The Urbane Spaceman]

Dear Reader,

please know that my intention is to write these true tales form my youth.

It's simply that there has been a lot of deaths in my Tribe.

I will post a fresh one tomorrow. Yup.


DRINK!

Great news!


Oh shit, no, not those, fuck, sorry, ok I`m out...

Bastard. I will find you.

[Dear Booze]

This. I want more of this early tale.