One of the myths Phoenicians have about riding their bus system is that the busses break down, a lot. To that I retort: so do cars. A possible bus breakdown never worried me, because the way I saw it, if the bus broke down it would indeed be an inconvinience, but one that I can handle and one that doesn’t cost me the same as my car breaking down. Today I had a breakdown, and lets just say I handled it.
I take one of three busses on my way to and from school every day. Two are actual city busses, which charge a fare and travel long distances, and one is a free local neighborhood shuttle. I take a bus almost every day I attend class, only foregoing it to ride my bike instead. On days when time is of the essence, I drive to and park at the Tempe Library and ride the Orbit Jupiter neighborhood shuttle or my bike to campus, and on days when I have the time I’ll save the gas and pick up a city bus at a terminal close to my home.
Today I was taking my favorite city bus, the 72N from its point of origination near my home. The 72N that originates at 7:39 AM is operated by an eastern european immigrant with a strong accent. His speech is slightly broken, often missing articles and using odd verb conjugations, making a conversation with him sometimes funny. As I boarded the bus, it was completely off. Unusual, I thought, since often the driver will leave the engine idling during stops for reasons I assume to include keeping the AC operational and the desiel engine warm. As we neared the departure time, our driver had to exit the bus, walk to the back, and start the engine manually from the behind. Again, unusual, why did he start it from the back?
We were doing fine for most of the trip, cruising along with far fewer stops than normal. I was happy; I’d be early. As the bus crossed over the US-60 freeway, I looked down on the stop-and-go traffic and thought “ha, you’re wasting gas and not moving, I’m saving gas and moving”. Ironic was the timing of such a thought. Immediately atfer the bus completed crossing the US-60, which I’ve observed as the point where the bus begins to achieve its daily goal of become a sardine can for its riders, the AC died. Before I had time to fully comprehend the consequences of a standing room only bus without AC, the engine completely failed. We came to a complete stop, ironically, at a bus stop.
Peoples faces displayed signs of panic, distress, and frustration. I knew that a good thrid of the bus was en-route to ASU and some of those students had assignments due or tests today, myself included. I had plenty of time before class, so I wasn’t worried, but I couldn’t let this cause me to be late. I did the typical boy scout thing and analyzed the situation. Though I had a general idea, I didn’t know exactly where I was at the moment. While the operator was behind the bus trying to get it to start, I weighed my options. I figured that I was probably close enough to bike all the way there, I could call my grandfather who lived down the road, or I could wait for the next bus and be a little late. The starter was chugging but the engine wasn’t turning over. I hadn’t settled on anything yet, but I wanted my solution to also aid the other distressed students stuck in the bus. I decided I needed to first figure out where I was. I got up and got a look out the front window. The driver walked back onto the bus and announced, “We’re not moving for while now.” The funny way he said it, combined with his accent, earned a weak chuckle from most of the distraught riders. I laughed too, but not just at the driver, also at the realization where I was… about 1/8 mile from the Tempe Library where, as I said above, I pick up the free neighborhood shuttle on a regular basis. I had found the solution.
People were stirring in their seats and some were asking the driver how long the rescue bus would be only to be further frustrated by his answer of “at least 20 minutes”. I realized that I needed to leave soon to catch the next Orbit Jupiter, and fufilling my desire to also aid the other ASU students, I stood up and announced the solution, “If you’re going to ASU, you can take the Orbit with me, it’ll get us there faster”. The driver, as if it were his idea, echoed me, “Oh, the Jupiter get you there fast!” One guy behind me said aloud, “I am following this guy, he knows whats going down.” I stepped off the bus, got my bike, and looked behind me to see 15 or so people following my lead.
From there the rest is history. Under my lead, the students followed me to the bus stop and we hopped on the Jupiter. Because of the influx of 72N orphans, the Jupiter filled up much faster than normal, meaning we passed many upset people at bus stops further down the road. We arrived on campus with 10 minutes to spare, and one chick announced that I was her hero. “Thanks, I guess,” I muttered, and the 15 students I “saved” rushed off to class.
