MIAMI TALES #2: Your Tired and Poor

While Chippie and I and our friends John and Joanne were at the beach, we decided one afternoon to take the bus down the line into Miami proper. It turned out to be more of an adventure than we had expected.

When we entered the bus, the seats toward the back were all filled. So we sat in the front side-facing seats which have warnings: "These are seats reserved for handicapped or senior citizens, Please vacate the seats when these passengers enter."

Sho 'nuff, we hadn't gone two stops before a hefty man wearing a medical mask got on the bus. He was pulling one of those little carts which you usually see oxygen tanks in, but it carried no tanks, just things that some people might call 'junk.' I stood and allowed him to sit down.

"Thank you very much," he said, "it's hard to have to go by bus, but that's the only way I can get around."

"No problem," I replied, "I'm happy to do it."

At the very next stop, a man with two military style duffle bags got on the bus. By this time, someone had left the seat across from the man with the mask, so the very thin new-comer sat there. He looked not at all well nor even very clean.

"You know," said Face Mask to me, "I'm a transplant patient so I have to wear this mask. My immune system is shot to hell with all these drugs." He explained that he was liable to catch colds and flu just from ordinary exposure to other people. Catching even a mild bug was apt to threaten his life. Duffle bag across the aisle listened attentively and tsked his tongue.

"I used to be a health inspector," said Face Mask. "You know, I saw some filthy kitchens in restaurants. We use-ta close 'em down just like that! But nothin' was worse than them hospitals. Every time I hafta go into one I start to vomit and get diarrhea."

"Hey! No one wants to listen to that shit," said Duffle Bag. "I just come out of the hospital in Tucson. I had a hernia operation and they screwed it up so I almost died. That's why I came to Florida. I get out in the sun and pretty soon I feel pretty good. Those goddamned doctors'll kill you."

"It ain't the doctors," said Face Mask, "it's the filth."

I am a good Christian and a patient, caring person, really I am. But at this point I wanted out of the conversation. A prickly discussion between two sickly types of uncertain mental soundness was turning into an argument, and so I retreated back further into the bus leaving our friend Joann to deal with them. It was a cowardly move on my part, but I told you I was patient, not brave. (Although I probably could have handled them both with my hands tied behind me.)

I am a believer in public transportation. But, there are good reasons why folks like the solitude of the private car.