Another one rides the bus

April 24, 2008

I grew up in the back woods of Arkansas in the 80’s to parents who did not want their child exposed to the evils of the current pop music.  So instead, I was subjugated to country music and oldies.  Granted, this did not hurt me – I actually enjoy oldies (though country left my ears the instant I left home).  But due to this (what many of my friends commonly refer to as a tragedy) I am not familiar with 80’s music. So when someone throws an 80’s party, I’m left standing in the corner wondering what the hub-bub is about – especially since most of it is so terrible anyway. Tragedy? I think I was blessed.  My only exposure to 80’s music was Michael Jackson (apparently my parents didn’t find “Bill Jean is not my lover” offensive) and Weird Al Yankovich. If you play “Addicted to Love” over your speakers, I’ll be out of my corner faster than Michael Johnson and yelling loud with the words “Addicted to Spuds”.  It can be quite embarrasing when I realize I’ve cleared the floor for all the wrong reasons.  My husband often wonders what planet I have just landed from.  But he can’t say much either, because he was shielded even more than I was.

So Weird Al is my connection to the 80’s and one of my favorite remakes of his is “Another Rides the Bus” instead of “Another One Bites the Dust”.  Now, mind you, in the 80’s I lived on a ranch and then on a farm where the closest neighbor was 1/4 of a mile away.  So when I heard the lyrics to “Another Rides the Bus”, I didn’t quite understand the concept of hundreds of people squashed onto a bus. I mean, where in the world does that happen, thought my little 9 year old mind.  Well, yesterday I found out where. It’s called the  M72 crosstown bus at rush hour, or heck ANY crosstown bus at rush hour. As I sat in my envied seat,  the infamous lyrics came swirling back into my brain “The windows closed and the fan is broke and my face is turning blue. I haven’t been in a crowd like this since I went to see the Who. Well, I coulda got off a couple of miles ago, but I couldn’t get to the door. There isn’t any room for me to breathe and now we’re stoppin’ to pick up more” dun-dun-dun “another rides the bus-ah” dun-dun-dun.  Yeah, that was my life yesterday.  People couldn’t stand any closer, yet the bus driver felt it imperitive that we pick up every last pedestrian on the street. The bus even stalled a couple of times because it was so full and heavy.  You couldn’t see between people. There was no need to hold onto a bar if standing, because even if a boulder had falled from the sky directly in front of the bus causing an emergency braking situation, no one would’ve even noticed and no one would’ve died due to the immense amount of padding providing by flesh and bags.  I was “lucky” enough to have a seat with a very fat woman’s chest in my face. And, of course, it being rush hour, it took 30 minutes to go the 2 miles I was trying to go.

I think next time I’ll walk and instead of singing Tiffany’s “I think I’m Alone Now”, the words to “I think I’m a Clone Now” will be playing through my head.


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