© 2015 Luke T. Bush
PLATTSBURGH CITY, NY – Sept. 5, 2015
Did you ever have one of those days when you think humanity could use a good culling?
I have a cull list for miscreants who should be exiled on an isolated island. This would greatly benefit mankind at large. At the top of my list: bullies.
Let me introduce someone I will call Mr. Yellalot, a bus driver. Give a bully a bit of authority and watch him exploit it.
How to describe Yellalot?
Imagine Ralph Kramden with rabies.
Or the Hulk without the charm.
My first incident with Yellalot was over my senior pass. I showed it the first time I boarded the bus. When I took the bus a second time he told me I had to show my pass again -- even though he recognized me.
I asked if I had to show my pass every time I boarded (no other driver required this.)
Yellalot snapped at me. He barked that I had to show it every time. I wondered if he was reacting that way because his butt still smarted from his distemper shot. (A professional poodle cut would have done wonders for his appearance. Plus a nail clipping.)
All of my gray hair didn't indicate my senior status? If Mr. Yellalot was a bouncer at a bar he would refuse entry to Betty White because she looked like a preteen. I can envision how Betty would react.
Now understand Yellalot isn't in bully mode all of the time. He acts normal enough until he encounters a person he thinks perfect for rough riding, someone who appears easily intimidated.
That control freak rage always simmers under his facade.
The second incident happened some time later, involving a disagreement over a fare charge. No other driver added this second fare.
Apparently he had forgotten about doing that Nazi thing with me showing my official papers. Maybe he left his jackboots at home.
Mr. Yellalot had a new issue to press. As soon as I boarded the bus he brought up a gray area with the fare. He also directed his command at another passenger, a woman in the same situation, to pay the extra fare.
On the way back to the bus stop Yellalot repeated his order a couple of times, applying pressure to make me cower before his godlike magnificence.
I didn’t play along.
At the bus stop Yellalot escalated the situation into a heated conflict. He became angry when I told him that no other driver required the extra fare and that I would contact his boss.
He reared up from his seat and stood near where I sat. Leaning forward he roared: You have to pay the fare! After I had asked three times he revealed his name, only his first name.
I still declined to pay.
The other passenger kept quiet, the poor woman probably scared shitless by the bus driver’s psycho demeanor.
The irony: I would have paid the fare if Yellalot didn’t act like a personality-impaired thug.
Ask, don’t demand.
Especially if you’re serving the public.