I had left Connie's house in the early morning and took the #14 bus to the Beverly Hills library. I had to pay for a lost book and then check out another. My higher power comes alive when reading a good book. The one was the biography about Charles Dickens.
Left library at about 12:30 and took three buses and two trains back to Long Beach. There I would link up with the 560 rapid bus to Huntington Beach. The Long Beach Blue line train dropped me off on Fifth Street where I just made it aboard the #29. The bus does a half waltz to Seventh Street on its way to the VA Center and Wilson High School.
To my chagrin, two wheel chairs climbed aboard two stops from the last. The first was a large motorized one with furry toys hooked on its handles. It took the driver about two minutes to hook him up. That is when another, this one a non-electric attempted to negotiate the steps of the bus. It was now about three thirty on Wednesday.
A grey headed bearded one tried to push in coins in the slot but his hands were of no use. His luggage was as wide as the aisle of the bus and he tried to sit while the bus driver screamed at him for not placing the coins properly.
Long Beard had his face hidden with more grey. But it was his big hooked nose that told me a man was under the grey blanket of hair. His eyes were not visible. He counted a few coins and when the bus stopped on Channel and Long Beach transit station I gleefully jump off and went towards the rapid 560 parked up the street. It was a little after four and I had a meeting at five with somebody interested in my football story. I would be on time, or so I thought.
Outside the bus stood a tall lean grey haired old man. He looked perplexed but still kept up a strong appearance. He could have easily been president of a mortuary as he wore tall black socks that hid his spindly legs over black shorts.
He seemed vexed. There must have been a problem with the bus as the driver remain in the bus or visit the station for food and drink. He waited for help. That is when a OCTA white car drove up and a little man, without hair walked towards Tall Socks. Outside the bus, the supervisor went to the rear of the bus.
"Need to go in reverse to make it go," he insisted. They walked to the front of the bus and tried to engage the motor but it didn't engage. Meantime, about fifteen tired domestics and laborers climbed aboard. After five minutes I left the bus and asked the supervisor the problem. again.
"Is this bus going to leave", I asked and tried to hide my anger.
He walked pass me and his eyes told me to F...O...I forgot what I said but now knew I would be late for my appointment. After fifteen minutes the patrons remained on the bus. Tall Socks never told the passengers the problem. nothing to the passengers.
Several feet in back of me another bu, a 560 pulled up. We loaded on this bus and at another stop, about twenty passengers came aboard. Several mentioned that they now could not connect with their connecting bus.
Most of them live in the Santa Ana area, the route of the 560 bus. It took another fifteen minutes before these tired lost souls got on this bus. Yet the bus with the problem now was gone. Was the motor now working?
I became tired and angry, and deservedly so. It cancelled out a perfect day, And when my 30 day pass had problems with its sensor, I tried to reveal the problems to their office. I found out that I had to visit their office in Santa Ana. I would need to hook up with three buses to arrive at their Main Street office.
The next day It took me three buses and two hours to arrive their.
I had trouble finding where to go but finally went to an office on the first floor. I could not get any water and there were no restrooms but I did get a chance to speak to a Mr. Cipriano. He had trouble understanding me, but I did feel good to get a new bus pass and unload my troubles on them.
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