One of the first people I ever noticed when I started riding Route 21 was Crackhead Lady. Every morning she would get on the bus at a stop near a hobo camp and try to convince the bus driver that she had permission to ride the bus at a discount. Every morning the bus driver would patiently explain that the letter she held was not what she needed to get the discounted fair. The two of them would perform this dance with great precision. I always felt like I should clap when they were done.
Crackhead Lady disappears for long periods of time, so whenever there's a sighting I go into NatGeo mode. I feel like her vitals should be recorded. Maybe there should be a collar to track her movements like a big cat through the urban jungle. I spotted her yesterday at lunchtime , on the street, in a neighborhood a few blocks off Route 21. She looked heavier than she did this time last year. Last year's drought had been very difficult.
I thought about Crackhead Lady last night when I went to bed. It was raining so hard that it wasn't fit for man or beast outside. I prayed that God would keep Crackhead Lady safe. Then I prayed that He would take these piece of crap eyes of mine, and teach me to see differently.
See you on Route 21.
Route 21 is a real bus route. It's one of the longest in the city. Sure it connects me from the casa to the workplace, but it also connects me to a great deal more.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
Billboards, Bulbs, and Battleships
The other day, over lunch, my wife asked me if I still liked what I do for a living. That's a fair question for the one who has listened to the daily woes of this job for 23 years to ask.
I laughed and said, "I think so. I'll give it another 10 or 12 years then I'll let you know." But something had happened earlier that day that reminded me about how things had changed. The guy who changes the light bulbs on our billboards brought in a photo album of his work in our industry from a few years back. He used to be a sign painter, and a damn good one at that. His book was filled with photos of brand images that he had artfully recreated over the years. I could recall all of them, and I could even tell you where most had been displayed.
Not that long ago things were much different. By necessity, planning was done months in advance. Artwork was in the studio for days or weeks before it got out on the streets, and once it was out there it was permanent. Artwork was big, bold, and impactful like a battleship. And like a battleship it took forever to turn around.
Today's campaigns are planned in days, implemented in hours, and sadly too often filled with images that deliver the payload of a jetski. Impact has been traded in for nimbleness. It doesn't have to be that way. Speed and impact aren't mutually exclusive.
So, the question was do I still like what I do? The answer is absolutely! Many people in our industry don't understand the powerful medium at their disposal, but I do. Somebody has to let them know that our medium, like that sign painter, can do much more if given the chance. Be creative! Think big!
I'll see you on Route 21.
I laughed and said, "I think so. I'll give it another 10 or 12 years then I'll let you know." But something had happened earlier that day that reminded me about how things had changed. The guy who changes the light bulbs on our billboards brought in a photo album of his work in our industry from a few years back. He used to be a sign painter, and a damn good one at that. His book was filled with photos of brand images that he had artfully recreated over the years. I could recall all of them, and I could even tell you where most had been displayed.
Not that long ago things were much different. By necessity, planning was done months in advance. Artwork was in the studio for days or weeks before it got out on the streets, and once it was out there it was permanent. Artwork was big, bold, and impactful like a battleship. And like a battleship it took forever to turn around.
Today's campaigns are planned in days, implemented in hours, and sadly too often filled with images that deliver the payload of a jetski. Impact has been traded in for nimbleness. It doesn't have to be that way. Speed and impact aren't mutually exclusive.
So, the question was do I still like what I do? The answer is absolutely! Many people in our industry don't understand the powerful medium at their disposal, but I do. Somebody has to let them know that our medium, like that sign painter, can do much more if given the chance. Be creative! Think big!
I'll see you on Route 21.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
No Guns, Knives....or Really Personal Phone Calls
"What did your dad say when you asked him about his hitting me?" None of us on Route 21 asked to be included in on the lady's half of the phone conversation. Judging by the collective squirm from the rest of the passengers on the bus, we all felt the same. Awkward.
She, like so many others I've heard on the bus, was oblivious to the fact that we could all hear her. Let's make a new rule from now on. Let's post it right up there behind the bus drivers seat.
No guns, knives, drinks in non-spill proof containers, and No really personal phone calls.
Feel free to text though. I'm pretty sure that all 40 of us in this confined space was what the inventor of texting was thinking about when he invented it.
I can't say exactly what dad's reply was when he was asked about hitting the boy's mother. I have a pretty good idea though from mom's exclamation of, "No I did not have it coming!"
She, like so many others I've heard on the bus, was oblivious to the fact that we could all hear her. Let's make a new rule from now on. Let's post it right up there behind the bus drivers seat.
No guns, knives, drinks in non-spill proof containers, and No really personal phone calls.
Feel free to text though. I'm pretty sure that all 40 of us in this confined space was what the inventor of texting was thinking about when he invented it.
I can't say exactly what dad's reply was when he was asked about hitting the boy's mother. I have a pretty good idea though from mom's exclamation of, "No I did not have it coming!"
Monday, September 17, 2012
She looks like she wants to go all Krav Maga
Route 21 is rolling heavy this morning. School's back in so all the college students are hauling their tired butts back on the bus. This morning this bus has more butts than seats.
Since I was a kid I was taught to give up my seat to a lady, but the ladies on Route 21 are not always easy to spot. Most are camouflaged. Hidden by ink, spikes, denim, or gold colored metal. If that's not enough they hide behind scowls that give you the feeling that they'd just as soon go all Krav Mega on you as look at you.
I have a lot of reasons not to give up my seat to the ladies on route 21. I'm probably one of the few paying full fare, because I'm either too young or too old for a discount. Odds are I'm subsidising their education and the bus ride to it. These ladies are strong, and certainly don't need my seat.
I think of all these reasons as I rise and grab the overhead bar. Hopefully it won't be the only time today she is treated like a lady.
I'll see you on Route 21.
Since I was a kid I was taught to give up my seat to a lady, but the ladies on Route 21 are not always easy to spot. Most are camouflaged. Hidden by ink, spikes, denim, or gold colored metal. If that's not enough they hide behind scowls that give you the feeling that they'd just as soon go all Krav Mega on you as look at you.
I have a lot of reasons not to give up my seat to the ladies on route 21. I'm probably one of the few paying full fare, because I'm either too young or too old for a discount. Odds are I'm subsidising their education and the bus ride to it. These ladies are strong, and certainly don't need my seat.
I think of all these reasons as I rise and grab the overhead bar. Hopefully it won't be the only time today she is treated like a lady.
I'll see you on Route 21.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
It's a Rollover not a Flyover
How do you get your Skinny Cows home before they melt if you ride the bus to the HEB? What if you could only buy what you could carry? How do you send your kid outside to play, when outside is really sketchy?
Most of us here in "flyover" country get a little put out when those on the coasts think that the whole country is like New York or LA. How can they possibly relate to the cares and concerns of those of us here in the middle? There's truth to it. We do lead different lives.
When I drive to work my car taxis me the short distance from my home through my neighborhood, jets me onto the expressway, lands me at my exit near downtown, and taxis me down the access road to my workplace. The whole trip takes around 25 minutes. A little longer on the flight home. Along the way I listen to what I choose, and have the temperature and the seat set to my liking. It's my own little bubble keeping me in my world from doorstep to doorstep.
I realized something after a few trips on Route 21. A rollover is no different than a flyover, and there wasn't much difference between me and that guy in New York or LA. Do something different today. Really look at the people and places that make up your community.
I'll see you on Route 21.
Most of us here in "flyover" country get a little put out when those on the coasts think that the whole country is like New York or LA. How can they possibly relate to the cares and concerns of those of us here in the middle? There's truth to it. We do lead different lives.
When I drive to work my car taxis me the short distance from my home through my neighborhood, jets me onto the expressway, lands me at my exit near downtown, and taxis me down the access road to my workplace. The whole trip takes around 25 minutes. A little longer on the flight home. Along the way I listen to what I choose, and have the temperature and the seat set to my liking. It's my own little bubble keeping me in my world from doorstep to doorstep.
I realized something after a few trips on Route 21. A rollover is no different than a flyover, and there wasn't much difference between me and that guy in New York or LA. Do something different today. Really look at the people and places that make up your community.
I'll see you on Route 21.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Route 21
I like to watch people's expressions when I tell them I ride the bus. Some people feel sorry for me. A few admire my green commitment. Others are just puzzled. I can't say that I blame them. I still haven't quite figured out myself why I ride to work via Route 21.
I think people project on to me whatever their feelings about riding the bus are. If they feel sorry for the poor stiffs on public transportation then they feel sorry for me. If they lean toward hipster, and secretly wish they lived a greener existence, then they feel a little admiration. If they can't possibly fathom why a person in my demographic would share a ride then they're bewildered.
Ask yourself what emotion would flash across your face if I told you I rode the bus. Now ask yourself what I would see if I told you about my faith. Would I see pity, bewilderment, or admiration. Consider doing something new today, and challenge yourself to leave yourself open to whatever lesson might be learned along the way.
I'll see you on Route 21.
I think people project on to me whatever their feelings about riding the bus are. If they feel sorry for the poor stiffs on public transportation then they feel sorry for me. If they lean toward hipster, and secretly wish they lived a greener existence, then they feel a little admiration. If they can't possibly fathom why a person in my demographic would share a ride then they're bewildered.
Ask yourself what emotion would flash across your face if I told you I rode the bus. Now ask yourself what I would see if I told you about my faith. Would I see pity, bewilderment, or admiration. Consider doing something new today, and challenge yourself to leave yourself open to whatever lesson might be learned along the way.
I'll see you on Route 21.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)