A to B, Story 1

I had stayed later then anticipated at an evening event I attended. It was a Friday.
My strategy of getting back home consisted of taking a route I knew well, at least during the day. However, the first bus I rode had a minor 5 minute delay, which in turn led to me missing a transfer route, which made me wait for one hour for the next bus. No big deal, nothing to be done but wait.

At 10:00 the next bus came by. I stepped in, the smell of marijuana hit me at the door. The brightly lit interior revealed four people plus myself. All of them, except me and, hopefully, the bus driver, apparentlly filled with their personal choice of intoxicating chemicals.

We traveled for a few miles, the bus filled. I am always facinated with humanity, even in its inebriated intoxicated forms. A large gentleman climbed on board and lounged out close to the front. He talked to people as they boarded. I couldn’t hear what he said. Two stops before my final destination a young strung out boy got on. He was complete ego, vicious. The large man said something, the young ego cocked his head and paced in front of the other, spat out threats, moved to the back of the bus, a barrage of unsolicited verbal threats spattering like uncontrolled gunfire to random victims. His focus staid on the large lounging drunk man.

My exit stop came, I walked to the door, right between the large drunk and the vicious youth. Doors opened, I stepped out and down, behind me the angry youths bark of “Mutha....... gonna kill you!” was silenced by the sealing hiss of the closing doors and the growl of the engine as it pulled this box of mobile madness down its destined route. My neighborhood street silently sleeping in front of me.

From point A to point B.

I have concluded that on average I spend a bare minimum of 3 hours a day on a bus or waiting for a bus. Public transportation, when taken as your main form of movement creates strange psycogeography. You are forced to interact with sections of your city that you may normally skip over and you are forced to allow the system to dictate your daily route and time schedule.
The very practice of getting through the city to the campus that I have class in, my workplace or other places I frequently visit often turns into a strange examination of human movement and society. A study of separate neighborhoods and social systems as well as an observation of psycology (both my own and those riding with me).
The act of going out on an evening excursion becomes a strategy game. If I leave at X time I will need to take X bus, walk through X neighborhood for X amount of miles in order to arrive at home. The strategic planning will include taking into account the possible difficulty and dangers of such an expedition and may even determine if the event is worth the risk.
Denver is, for the most part, a safe city. Still, it is a fact that all populations have their seedy side and the movement through them, from point to point involves enough risk to need acknowledgment.
Movement is a risky endeavor, physically, mentally and socially. Yet movement is not only necessary but inevitable. Everything moves, shifts, changes. Nothing is ever still, at least not in the nature of the reality that I am aware of.