3. My Observations on the Bus

This weekend I tried to think of places I go that have a defined culture within them. I went to Kroger. None there--people of all walks of life shopped there. Same for the big-box office supply store in Willow Lawn, whose unremarkableness can be characterized by my forgetting whether it was Office Depot or Staples. But on my bus ride back to downtown, I had a 'DUH' moment. The bus and its riders have their own culture and mannerisms.

The Greater Richmond Transit Company (GRTC) system runs all over Richmond's city limits, extending into the surrounding counties for more direct express routes. I ride the bus solely within the city limits, and mostly travel in the same area (from my house in Jackson Ward to locations in Richmond's West End, on buses 3, 4, 6, 16, 24, 74, and others). However, the demographics of the bus are never the same.

The first factor that affects the type of riders on the bus is the time of day. Early morning buses are crowded with people dressed for work, in dressy clothes or uniforms, and teenagers going to school. Mid-day is slower paced, and has an increased number of elderly and disabled people and families with young children. Late nights are sparse; if anyone is on the bus at midnight, they look tired, and are trying to go home.

I rode the bus this weekend which was a little, but not much different, than riding on a weekday. Around noon I departed 1st and Broad on the 6 bus toward Willow Lawn. There were several elderly people on the bus, one of which had a walker. She was white, very small and fragile-looking. She thanked the bus driver very loudly when she got off at Madison, confirming my assumption that she couldn't hear very well. A black family sat in front of me, with two toddlers who couldn't sit still. Other black teenagers were scattered around the bus, some chatting, some glued to their glowing cell phones, all of whom got off with me at Willow Lawn.

Only one person talked to me on the trip--the person who identified with me the most, appearance-wise. She was white, had long brown hair, and looked to be a college student. Unlike me, she was dressed very fashionably, with a long blue peacoat and matching beret. She asked me a question about the bus route--a sign that she'd never taken the bus before. She was the obvious outsider but nobody really treated her as such.

Despite the bus demongraphics' wide range of ages, colors, and class, we shared one thing in common: our winter coats. Every person on the bus (save for the blue beret girl) was wearing a puffy coat. Those who were not wearing their hoods up were wearing toboggans. I noticed that no one took their gloves or hats off once inside the bus, even though the climate was hot and muggy. Most people held their belongings close to them, in their laps, their figures distorted by layers of bulky winter fabrics and piles of bags.

Bus etiquette is something found nowhere else. Students in Cabell Library spread their belongings all over tables, couches, and floors, and elsewhere it is rude to not take off your coat and hat once indoors. Why, then, do bus riders seem to encapsulate themselves in "bubbles?" After some thinking, I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with being germaphobic, antisocial, fearful of theft, or even being cold, because the bus was warm, comfortable, and full of friendly people. In the end, I thought way too hard about the "bubbles" and it finally dawned on me, as I scooted over to give the rider next to me more room, that it's all a matter of convenience--taking off one's coat means adding extra space to your bubble; placing bags in the seat next to you doubles the space and leaves them less secure from Richmond's craterous potholes jostling them around. It's an act of convenience, courtesy, and nothing more.