2003-03-07|1:28 a.m.
I get on the bus with two other people who are also students. Inside sits only a very large black man who has chosen a seat quite close to the bus driver.
As I grab a seat and relax I notice two things immediately.
First, that there are thousands of tiny scratches on the window next to my head. They remind me of how my glasses eventually get after wearing them for over a year. Each minuscule tributary within the window catches the morning light which creates dazzling colors as we pass trees, buildings, and other things on the ride. It is breathtakingly beautiful.
And then there is the next thing I notice, which interrupts the first. The man, I notice, is talking to himself.
�It�s the homosexuals that are bringing down the American empire. You people have so little respect for me, a man who has walked this great earth for 6,000 years as the doctor of this civilization�..�
And he goes on like that. He waves his hands about and his eyes dart here and there and close and then begin the cycle again and again. I make myself not look. Yet, the outbursts cause something reflexive and I catch myself staring.
More people are on the bus.
We get closer to the VA hospital, which is one of the stops on my route. I assume that the big guy told the bus driver that he needed to get downtown, because the bus driver tells him that the VA hospital is where he can stop to get another bus to get downtown. This turns something on in him. The man gets very angry.
�Don�t you, never you tell me these things. I go when I go. You, shut up. Shut up. Don�t tell me anything.�
�Sir, if you want to get downtown you must get off and take the next bus.�
�No,� the big man says and gets up and walks up to the driver. �You�re a Masonite! Aren�t you?! Like Zeus explained before the Bible. You do not tell me when or how to go downtown. You fucking homosexual. You�re destroying this America!�
�Sir, sit down, please. I can�t go downtown. It is not on my route.�
�Ok, I�ll beat you down and I will take this bus to downtown.�
And you can hear everyone gasp. I feel uneasy. But not necessarily afraid. I get nervous about the old veterans who at this point are getting riled up over the situation. One of them is jumping in his seat saying, �Call the police and get him!� Over and over. Some people begin dialing the police. It is a strange sensation of sounds and visuals, because they are all sitting behind me in the rear of the bus.
The bus driver takes the bus to a police officer directing traffic in a parking lot. The bus driver immediately sees the big guy and stays back. Police cars with sirens roaring surround the bus. The man, who I would assume (having only taken a few courses in psychology) is schizophrenic, tells us all to fuck off and walks slowly off the bus. The police men come on to the bus but never approach the man who begins walking down the sidewalk. The bus driver briefly explains the situation to the officer. The man is still walking down the street and no one approaches him. He is yelling something to cars.
I feel like crying.
The officer says simply, �Ok.�
As that man sitting a few seats from me is still saying, �Get him. Yeah. Get him. Yeah. Get him.�
The man is down the street.
The bus pulls off. You can feel the people exhale. The man is still walking down the street, distressed, as our bus passes him.
�Get him. Yeah, there is a cop car. They�ll get him. They�ll get him and put him in jail. Yeah. Get him.�
I don�t take my stare from the scratches in the window from that point on.