the sickness of motion...

i've seen people at their worst when they travel. people get road weary, home sick and their nerves slowly start coming undone. especially if you have the misfortune of traveling cross country via a bus. i know, i've traveled across the country from new york state to the midwest to the mountains and plains of montana and north dakota and idaho dropping down to california and finally, back through the biggest littltle city in the world, reno and through the corn fields of kansas back to where i began on a seven day total saga, for that's the best way to describe it. a train is a civlised mode of travel long distances, a plane is nearly a luxury, but a bus conjures up the wagon trains surrounded by indians or an okie model t that just barely survives the dust bowl. it speaks of desperation because its the cheapest method, the one most readily available and also, i think, the one that most people can identify with. as opposed to the number of people who can drive a train (i'm not even sure if that is the proper verb for that action...) or fly a plane, most everyone can drive an automobile...
this past sunday i started a trip to new york city. there was a crowd of people swarming the bus and nothing resembling a line. in moments like this, i try to be blindly democratic and not favour anyone, but simply hold out my hand and let the nearest person in this crowd hand me a ticket and bingo! you're on the bus. the bus filled. people still came at me and i began to almost feel claustrophobic. give me another minute and i would have had to beat people away from the bus. one woman who spoke little english desperately pushed her way on. i had to start yelling above the motor into the crowd that there were no more seats left, that it did not matter who was here first or that they wanted to go now. this desperate woman tried to explain in broken english that she had to go to work and wouldn't i take just one more? i looked at her ticket. nanuet, i'm not even going to nanuet, lady, you want that bus over there. i felt bad for her, stranger in a strange land and i felt bad for myself. here i am supposed to be some sort of modern day shepherd and i can't even walk her to the bus because by the time that i'd get back, people would be sitting in the aisles like some sort of overfilled mexican bus. there was a last minute change of plans and i had to boot the one remaining non- new york bound passenger from my bus and take it direct to new york, no sight seeing, no side trips, just new york. i felt hesitant about even bringing it up, people were still eyeing me with the let's string him up look in their eyes. but i did and three women seized upon the moment to begin simultaneously arguing with each other and pleading their case with me. I explained that it did not matter to me who went. no good. i walked away three times hoping that they would reach some sort of mutual happy consensus while i was away, but each time that i came back it was the same picture. pick me, pick me! you pick who goes, mr. driver! i was here first, no, i was here first. the final time i said, look, i don't care, but pick someone or i'm going with an empty seat. i came back expecting some raprochement... pick me, no pick me, the third woman had given up and left. the old splitting the baby down the middle ploy didn't work. where are you when we need you king solomon? and it finally had to come to their solution, pick a number between one and ten. one woman chose two and the other six, i chose nine and i pointed at number six and said, let's go. a minute later, number two stepped up on the stairway of the bus while i was getting it ready and stated with a final desperation and a definite southern twang, you know, i'm trying to get back down to florida and get back to my home to see if the hurricane ripped it apart and i hope that that is on your conscience! sigh... she had to lay the ole natural disaster card down. i wanted to say that if she had told me this to begin with, i would have tipped the scales in her favour, but people get desperate and in a mob, its always the last flaming torch that you can throw after the monster or the outlaw or the epileptic that you are banishing that counts. i guess...
which brings us to something that i've always enjoyed that is printed in each and every driver's log book which we have to carry with us at all times and record the hours and places we've been. i'm guessing that it is some hold over from the cold war judging from its message and the typeface that it uses... (caps theirs...)
AS A PROFESSIONAL DRIVER, YOUR PEACETIME (the following is underlined for extra emphasis...) IMPORTANCE WOULD BE MAGNIFIED MANY FOLD (end emphasis...) IN A NATURAL EMERGENCY.
IN CASE OF BOMB BLAST OR RADIOACTIVE FALLOUT (this is a 'natural' emergency?) FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS
1. Wherever you are, comply with civil defense instructions to assure your survival.
2. When notified by local authorities that it is safe to proceed, contact your company or motor transport officer (who IS this?) for instruction or the nearest State Highway Department office of Highway Patrolman for routing to the nearest Motor Transport Dispersion Center. (i have a feeling that these 1950's era instructions for planning in the event of ivan dropping the bomb are mouldering away somewhere in an underground cavern facility...)
3. Proceed with your vehicle, loaded or empty to Dispersion Center, report in and follow such instructions as are given you by the Dispersion Center officials.
nice, but i think that the truth would be that everyone with a bus would be pushing aside the tiny suv's to escape the big cities and heading for the hills.
and lastly, though i know that it doesn't fit in with this topic, but it is a nice little anecdote that makes me feel like driving is all worth it. i was leaving new york yesterday on the new jersey turnpike, a road where the normal 55 mph limit is broken by everyone and i am the slowest driver when i do 70 on it and the normally unlit fluorescent warning signs were alight with a message 'construction ahead' this one said (and they have other messages that are formed by what is lit up, snow, rain, poor visibility ahead and a variety of speed limits...) and then it simply said 'speed.' maybe to the chagrin of a new jerset dot programmer, the word 'reduce' was not lit before 'speed.' i tried to follow the directions at least...