Not everyone knows this, but there are social norms to be followed on the bus, depending on who you are. For example, large men can do pretty much whatever they want, as can old and injured people. Women with kids usually aren't bothered, because no one really likes seeing small kids on a bus. They are encouraged to get on and off the bus as efficiently as they can. Then, of course, there are the crazy people. No one knows what rules govern them, and no one really wants to find out. People like me: unimposing white girls, skinny guys, and Asians are typically the victims of the crazy people on the bus, so we try to go unnoticed; always wearing headphones or ear-buds of some sort, never talking to anyone unless directly addressed, and wearing a look of general unfriendliness and even boredom, so as not to attract any interest in any way, shape, or form from any of the crazies. We fall under the broader category of "regular people," which includes everyone not so far mentioned, but the crazy people like us better. I don't know why. Most frequent riders of the Cleveland RTA (and probably other mass transit services, but I'm no expert) know these rules, and live by them. However, occasionally, you meet a newcomer. And occasionally, a crazy person is waiting at the same bus stop as you.
I walked to the bus stop one morning. It was cold, raining, and grey: a typical Cleveland morning. There were two people inside the sheltered bus stop already, one sitting, one standing. As I approached, I saw more clearly that they were both women; the sitting one, about my age, and the standing one, somewhere in her late fifties or sixties. I put in my ear buds then, as it looked somewhat unpleasant. As I went into the bus stop, I learned that the older woman was ranting madly, with wild gesticulations and the works. She was yelling about how she wants to take her grandson out of the local high school, and start homeschooling him, because he failed a class and the principal blamed him, and not the teachers...or something like that. Usually, when something like this happens, I ignore it until it goes away, but the girl sitting near me wasn't aware of the standard procedure. She had no idea what to do, and I felt bad for her. She said the word; the one word in the world that will allow a ranter to share any information they might feel they have. The simple, disyllabic word that can make an entire bus ride louder, longer, and generally more unpleasant: okay. Naturally, the crazy person continued her rant. The girl and eye exchanged glances, and both looked away, as we were about to start laughing. After what seemed like forever, the bus came, and that was that...
...Until a few weeks ago. I was at the Cleveland Heights public library, renewing my library card. Somewhere behind me, I heard a commotion. A woman was yelling at the librarians, trying to get them to make change for a $100 bill. They said "We don't have that kind of money here. Try somewhere else." She didn't believe them, and walked up to the desk. By this time I was done doing what I needed to do, and as I turned to leave, I saw the woman who had ranted about her grandson, trying to exchange a $100 bill. I still don't know 100%, but I'm pretty sure that was not real legal tender.
I walked to the bus stop one morning. It was cold, raining, and grey: a typical Cleveland morning. There were two people inside the sheltered bus stop already, one sitting, one standing. As I approached, I saw more clearly that they were both women; the sitting one, about my age, and the standing one, somewhere in her late fifties or sixties. I put in my ear buds then, as it looked somewhat unpleasant. As I went into the bus stop, I learned that the older woman was ranting madly, with wild gesticulations and the works. She was yelling about how she wants to take her grandson out of the local high school, and start homeschooling him, because he failed a class and the principal blamed him, and not the teachers...or something like that. Usually, when something like this happens, I ignore it until it goes away, but the girl sitting near me wasn't aware of the standard procedure. She had no idea what to do, and I felt bad for her. She said the word; the one word in the world that will allow a ranter to share any information they might feel they have. The simple, disyllabic word that can make an entire bus ride louder, longer, and generally more unpleasant: okay. Naturally, the crazy person continued her rant. The girl and eye exchanged glances, and both looked away, as we were about to start laughing. After what seemed like forever, the bus came, and that was that...
...Until a few weeks ago. I was at the Cleveland Heights public library, renewing my library card. Somewhere behind me, I heard a commotion. A woman was yelling at the librarians, trying to get them to make change for a $100 bill. They said "We don't have that kind of money here. Try somewhere else." She didn't believe them, and walked up to the desk. By this time I was done doing what I needed to do, and as I turned to leave, I saw the woman who had ranted about her grandson, trying to exchange a $100 bill. I still don't know 100%, but I'm pretty sure that was not real legal tender.
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