I am a poor, wayfaring stranger...
There are some experiences that bring people from all walks of life together. These experiences transcend race, gender, politics, and orientation. Strangers band together like brothers and sisters for a common cause, a common hope. Their stories are unique, but the trials and the adversaries they face in this dark hour are one and the same.
I'm talking about waiting for the Chinatown bus. Especially ones that are an hour and a half late.
Within half an hour of waiting for a late bus, the walls raised in the name of creed and color come tumbling down. A white man in a sharp suit is listening intently to a Kenyan immigrant rant about how he's been waiting for 2 hours for a bus that hasn't bothered to come. A small group of European students are slumped against the wall looking forlorn, and a Japanese tourist offers one of them a cigarette. The student happily accepts it, and suddenly they're engaged in an animated conversation about their travels. I'm explaining to an Indian couple the different buses that also go to NY, including the Megabus, which just so happens to be nicer, cleaner, and has free wifi. They tell me about their previous visit to NY, and how they're bussing up to Boston right after they arrive, if the chinatown bus ever arrives to take them there. Two men are laughing about a joke they just shared; one is black and one is white. The scene is heart-warming in a United Colors of Benetton, “it's a small world after all“ kind of way. Too bad the bus is still an hour late.
It's already 11. I was supposed to be in Philly by now, but I missed the 8am bus, which was miraculously on time. Just my luck to be late for miracles. The ticket lady for the bus was such a bitch; I asked nicely and politely in Mandarin if I could take the next bus, which was supposedly at 10. Her face contorted so diabolically that it mangled her features. She scathingly demanded I read what my ticket said. There was another ticket lady who was slightly older in the booth. She looked at me almost with pity, but didn't say anything. I scanned my ticket, dreading the horrible word: non-refundable. No such word on my printed confirmation. I smiled in relief, and asked what she was talking about. “IT SAYS TO ARRIVE HALF AN HOUR EARLY!“ she spat.
I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, but every single time I've taken your busses, it's always been an hour late.“ She lost her composure for a split second, then snarled that whatever time my ticket said the bus would leave, I was supposed to be there 30 minutes before. “What about my return trip? I bought a round-trip ticket.“
If her eyes could shoot laser beams and venom, I'd be dead. “You wait here, if there is an empty spot on the bus, then you can get on.“
I went home, rather than sit there for 2 hours, picked up some last minute things I realized I forgot to bring, and came back. The waiting room was packed now, and I grew anxious. The bitchy lady was still there, looking smug. Behind the glass, the silent Lady had been joined by a man in his early twenties. The evil lady yammered something about the bus coming, then walked out of the waiting room; the whole room of passengers scrambled to follow her. The silent lady came out of the booth to go to the restroom, leaving the man in the booth. Sweet. This was my chance. I switched to English, since Mandarin didn't seem to have given me any advantage the first time.
"I missed the 8 oclock bus, and the lady said I could take the 10 oclock one." Slight lie, and I didn't specify which lady. He looked at my ticket, looked slightly helpless, and waited for the silent lady to come back. Crap. He explained what I had told him in Mandarin, and she looked at me with suspicion.
“She told you you could get on only if there were empty spots, right?" she demanded in English, meaning the evil lady. I sheepishly nodded. The two conferred in hushed Mandarin.
“I don't see what's the bid deal, why can't we just let her get on the bus?"
“Just go in the system and change her time. It's not hard at all."
“I don't know why she always makes such a big fuss."
The nice lady went to the computer, looked up my confirmation number, and changed the departure time. All the while, they glanced at the waiting room entrance nervously, clearly worried that evil lady would barge in anytime and bust them. When they finally changed my departure time, the nice lady looked at me with worry in her eyes, and instructed that if evil lady asked about the ticket, I was to tell her that I had called the NY office, and say that they were ok with my time change. She signed my ticket as confirmation, and I now had a guaranteed spot on the 10am bus. I thanked the two of them profusely, and hurried out before evil lady could show up and snatch my ride away.
Turned out the bus wasn't actually here yet, and the evil lady was just creating a diversion for the passengers so when the bus was late for an hour, they wouldn't want to lose their spot in the line that had formed outside around the corner to go back to the waiting room to complain. So I waited. And waited. AND got really annoyed and started bitching and moaning about the lousy service and how my precious time that was swirling down the drain of no return, along with the 50 other passengers.
Waiting for transportation to show up. The story of my life.
PA Renaissance Fair update, coming soon.
I'm talking about waiting for the Chinatown bus. Especially ones that are an hour and a half late.
Within half an hour of waiting for a late bus, the walls raised in the name of creed and color come tumbling down. A white man in a sharp suit is listening intently to a Kenyan immigrant rant about how he's been waiting for 2 hours for a bus that hasn't bothered to come. A small group of European students are slumped against the wall looking forlorn, and a Japanese tourist offers one of them a cigarette. The student happily accepts it, and suddenly they're engaged in an animated conversation about their travels. I'm explaining to an Indian couple the different buses that also go to NY, including the Megabus, which just so happens to be nicer, cleaner, and has free wifi. They tell me about their previous visit to NY, and how they're bussing up to Boston right after they arrive, if the chinatown bus ever arrives to take them there. Two men are laughing about a joke they just shared; one is black and one is white. The scene is heart-warming in a United Colors of Benetton, “it's a small world after all“ kind of way. Too bad the bus is still an hour late.
It's already 11. I was supposed to be in Philly by now, but I missed the 8am bus, which was miraculously on time. Just my luck to be late for miracles. The ticket lady for the bus was such a bitch; I asked nicely and politely in Mandarin if I could take the next bus, which was supposedly at 10. Her face contorted so diabolically that it mangled her features. She scathingly demanded I read what my ticket said. There was another ticket lady who was slightly older in the booth. She looked at me almost with pity, but didn't say anything. I scanned my ticket, dreading the horrible word: non-refundable. No such word on my printed confirmation. I smiled in relief, and asked what she was talking about. “IT SAYS TO ARRIVE HALF AN HOUR EARLY!“ she spat.I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, but every single time I've taken your busses, it's always been an hour late.“ She lost her composure for a split second, then snarled that whatever time my ticket said the bus would leave, I was supposed to be there 30 minutes before. “What about my return trip? I bought a round-trip ticket.“
If her eyes could shoot laser beams and venom, I'd be dead. “You wait here, if there is an empty spot on the bus, then you can get on.“
I went home, rather than sit there for 2 hours, picked up some last minute things I realized I forgot to bring, and came back. The waiting room was packed now, and I grew anxious. The bitchy lady was still there, looking smug. Behind the glass, the silent Lady had been joined by a man in his early twenties. The evil lady yammered something about the bus coming, then walked out of the waiting room; the whole room of passengers scrambled to follow her. The silent lady came out of the booth to go to the restroom, leaving the man in the booth. Sweet. This was my chance. I switched to English, since Mandarin didn't seem to have given me any advantage the first time.
"I missed the 8 oclock bus, and the lady said I could take the 10 oclock one." Slight lie, and I didn't specify which lady. He looked at my ticket, looked slightly helpless, and waited for the silent lady to come back. Crap. He explained what I had told him in Mandarin, and she looked at me with suspicion.
“She told you you could get on only if there were empty spots, right?" she demanded in English, meaning the evil lady. I sheepishly nodded. The two conferred in hushed Mandarin.
“I don't see what's the bid deal, why can't we just let her get on the bus?"
“Just go in the system and change her time. It's not hard at all."
“I don't know why she always makes such a big fuss."
The nice lady went to the computer, looked up my confirmation number, and changed the departure time. All the while, they glanced at the waiting room entrance nervously, clearly worried that evil lady would barge in anytime and bust them. When they finally changed my departure time, the nice lady looked at me with worry in her eyes, and instructed that if evil lady asked about the ticket, I was to tell her that I had called the NY office, and say that they were ok with my time change. She signed my ticket as confirmation, and I now had a guaranteed spot on the 10am bus. I thanked the two of them profusely, and hurried out before evil lady could show up and snatch my ride away.
Turned out the bus wasn't actually here yet, and the evil lady was just creating a diversion for the passengers so when the bus was late for an hour, they wouldn't want to lose their spot in the line that had formed outside around the corner to go back to the waiting room to complain. So I waited. And waited. AND got really annoyed and started bitching and moaning about the lousy service and how my precious time that was swirling down the drain of no return, along with the 50 other passengers.
Waiting for transportation to show up. The story of my life.
PA Renaissance Fair update, coming soon.
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