He was in the "I got off early on pay day, and started drinking before noon" position in his seat. Face smashed against the window, mouth wide open. Every few minutes he would drift into consciousness and shout, "Judson High School" at the top of his lungs. This meant one of two things. Either this man was still incredibly enthusiastic about his his high school 20 years or so after graduation, or he wanted to get off the bus at Judson High School. I chose the latter for him.
As we approached his stop I pulled down on the yellow cord, and roused him from his sleep. It took three or four repetitions of, "your at Judson High School" before the light of recognition shone in his bloodshot eyes, But when it did, he jumped up and poured himself out the backdoor of the bus. On the sidewalk, as we pulled away, I saw him rock backward trying to capture his balance. He regained it an instant before he fell back into, or worse, under the moving bus. I felt like such a fool! How could I have unleashed that accident waiting to happen onto the streets?
I thought about him all night long, I even watched the 10:00 news to see if someone had been run over. I was only trying to help the guy. That and stop the incessant, grito-like shouts of "Judson High School" in my ear every few blocks.
I've noticed that I'm willing to help people as long as it doesn't inconvenience me too much. What was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to get off with him, call someone, then wait while they came? Still, at the very least, I could have left him alone to ride around on Route 21 until he could take care of himself.
I took this picture the other day, as I was getting off the bus, of the next passed out guy I encounterd. I didn't lose any sleep over this guy. Never let it be said that I didn't give my very least.
See you on Route 21.
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