"contemplation of my travels" as you like it: iv, i

If one makes one's final approach to Hell on a city bus, I think I know what that bus would be like, for I just stepped off of it.

I'll back up.

In Colonial days, there were two major port cities in what is now Rhode Island: Providence and Newport (though they were probably like "Providenfe" and "Newporte"). If I'm not mistaken, Newport was the primary one, but then Providence built up and became the main port for the colony. Newport and Providence now remain as sort of sister cities in this smallest of the states. Newport is a big summer city, but in the winter, not much is going on there. So in the winter, young folks who attend one of the schools in Newport might find themselves wanting to come into Providence for some Friday night revelry, and they might find themselves on the 10:00 bus from Newport to Providence in order to do so.

And in fact, so did I find myself on this bus on this very evening. I picked it up about halfway between Newport and Providence in the town where my parents live, not really thinking that there would be many people on the bus because there usually aren't at night. But tonight this was not the case.

First of all, I knew things weren't going to go well before I even got on the bus. I'm standing in the rain at the bus stop, which was clearly marked and well lit, and I see the bus approaching. Fast. Like, really fast - like, easily 50mph. Too fast to stop for me with any amount of safety awareness. So I put up my hand and wave it to indicate "I'm here and would like to board your bus, please," and I don't see the bus slowing down any, so my hand waving becomes more and more animated until the point where I am waving my arm fully extended back and forth very rapidly in a "Hey! Hey!! HEYYY!!" kind of way. As the bus breezes past me, I see the brake lights finally go on, and fully a block past me, the bus rolls to a screeching halt. I jog the block down the road and board the bus, and before I can say "good evening" to the beleaguered driver, I am greeted by a wall of sound. The bus is packed -- packed -- with kids. I say "kids" -- they may have been 21 or so, since they were all clearly headed out to the bars; however, since I turned 29 maybe 21 is starting to look like 19. What? Why would I even type that out??

Anyway, the bus is packed, and there is one lone seat all the way at the back of the bus, on the bench that crosses the whole back wall of the bus. So I pick my way over all the feet that are sprawled out in the aisle and before I can reach my seat, the bus lurches forward again and I trip over someone's feet and up the aisle. Lemme tell ya, it felt like the middle school school bus all over again. Could I be any more uncool?

I finally make it back to my seat, nestled amongst a group of boys who are all wearing the college sophomore guy uniform: American Eagle striped button down shirt with a wife-beater underneath, revealed by the shirt being buttoned only 2/3 of the way; some kind of neck accessory (hemp necklace, fashion crucifix, dog tags); spiked hair (but not in the cute way); ratty-ass faded blue jeans; and pristine Nike shoes. These guys all also have the fashion accessory that marks them as underage: the Poland Spring water bottle filled with a liquid that is clearly not water. I have my iPod in, so I can't hear their whole conversation, but they get particularly animated at one point and I hear this exchange about being picky eaters (apparently they all are): First guy says "Dude, that's why I cook at home. I watch that Rachel Ray shit and cook all my shit at home." (The other guys look at him in silence for a minute.) Second guy goes "all I know is, I've never eaten an olive, and I've never eaten a mushroom, and I'm not going to."

There was another group of young men whose fashion choices I simply could not fathom: two of the young men seemed to be very conscious of hip-hop style in all their clothing items except that they were wearing these jackets that had these child-like cartoon drawings of woodland creatures on them. One of them had a white background and the other had a royal blue background but other than that they matched. These two guys also had matching do rags except in opposite colors. It was adorable, like they called each other as they were getting dressed.

Also, in watching each individual group of people, I noticed that every one of them at some point seemed to have a conversation about their shoe choices, as I saw them all looking at each other's shoes and pointing and comparing.

Meanwhile I think the bus is about to careen off the road; the driver is either trashed or just so keen to unload this rowdy group that he couldn't keep his foot off the pedal.

As I got off the bus at my stop, the lone other passenger who clearly wasn't affiliated with this group of late-night party-goers got up behind me, crashed into me as the bus screeched to a halt so that I nearly fell down the steps, and asked the driver "Is this the airport?" I left the bus before I could hear the bus driver's response, though I am sure it was something along the lines of "You've got a long way to go to the airport; you're not even on the right bus."