It Goes Deeper Than Race

By the time I had endured through most of the fiasco which was a further attempt, made today,

Japanese "mochi" cookies were in the food pantry box, out front; just as I had the reading of "The Japanese Art of Decluttering" on my menu...

to take the #62 bus out to Bullard Road and to make it there before the plasma place closed, I was in pretty good spirits, back in the Quarter.

First off: today there was an older black man on the bus, which was operating at about 50% capacity, with one person in every one of the two person seats; myself included, as I was there in one of them, representing Caucasians; and mostly just reading a book called: "falling leaves" (sic) by Adeline Yen Mah.

Then, when the bus was already about 7 minutes behind schedule because of a slowing of the traffic on Rt. I-10 which has been becoming almost a regular thing, lately; there was a commotion a couple seats ahead of me in the opposite row.

A 70-something black man had, I would have to guess, at least fallen asleep; or perhaps passed out. Maybe he had stopped breathig and/or his heart had stopped.

I am skeptical about the latter two contingencies because the lady in the seat alongside the old fellow started to yell for some kind of medical assistance, alerting the driver that this particular old black guy, who was kind of a smallish man, with some of that shrinkage attributable to his advanced age, and the loss of muscle mass which is purported to go with that -though I've seen quite a few individuals belie that particular belief...and plan to be one of them; but I digress.

So, the bus, which was already 7 minutes behind schedule, but could still have gotten me to the plasma place on time, had there not been this "medical emergency," reported by the passenger; and perhaps having thereby bound the driver, by duty, to call an ambulance, which would show up about 45 mintes after the bus had sat there; with the patient patiently waiting to be rescued. This was at a stop nearby which was a store that did not sell beer, I might add.

The next #62 bus came along; indicating that that one had fallen one whole bus behind, in regards to being on schedule. And, it came too late to get me to the plasma place. By then, a higher-up looking guy (because of his white button up shirt with some kind of official looking badge on it) had come along; who directed all us passenger to board the newly arrived #62; as the ambulance had not yet arrived for the guy, who was by then sitting up and chatting away with the people who had been wiping his head off with towels and feeding him water out of a bottle in a manner which must have reminded him of being a new born baby. I think, by then, he had snapped out of perhaps a nod off from perhaps even fentanyl; but seeing, as he did, after kind of coming to after almost an hour of waiting for an ambulance, how he had delayed a whole bus full of people, I think he began faking the seriousness of the instance of "going out" that had befell him.

"Turn that flag right side up!!"

By then, I had already made other plans. And, without having muttered: "Man, I'm out 50 bucks because of your fake-ass bull***t!" loud enough for the guy, or anyone else to hear me; I approached the white shirted guy with the badge and asked him if he would give me a transfer so I could just reverse direction and go home because at that point I had no hope of making it in time to where I was going.
"Sure," he said, and then led me to the cockpit, where a heavyset black lady who has been a bitch to me before, poked a button on the machine, and out came a transfer; which she handed to me; a transfer which would turn out to be useless.

All this is back-story to me being back in the Quarter after the equally cantankerous heavyset black lady piloting the #62 in the opposite direction, told me I would have to pay, after the transfer that had been provided me, through the agency of a higher up in a clean white shirt, wearing Khaki's and with a badge on his shirt.

I told this particular heavy-set driver where I had gotten the transfer; yet, she didn't budge. I'm sure she had heard about the medical emergency and, I at least thought that given the extraordinary circumstance of some old black guy "going out," would, at least let me ride on a transfer that heavyset driver #1 might have just pressed the wrong button on, when issuing.

So, I had to pay; but then when I got off, I went into the Quarter instead of hopping the next street car home. I found a very fat roach of some dank weed, confirmed that Tanya doesn't play on Tuesday nights by walking down Royal a ways, and then I basically am home smoking the roach,not having had my state of mind skewed towards the negative by having had what happened happen.

There was a young couple of what appeared to be lesbians in the Quarter, walking towards me to whom I tried to make light trivial conversation. They looked at me the same way that 80% of black people look at me out there; so I'm thinking it is either deeper than race; maybe because I look straight; or that it is race but includes some white people hating other whites upon the sight of them....

I'm just glad I have an extra day's expenses laid up, for just such a scenario. As it is I'm not busking because of breaking a string thaqt had already broken once...