I remember those old TV shows where someone would be driving home after an evening out with friends, but they'd never arrive at their destination. Something nefarious was set in motion from the moment they sat behind the wheel, for there was a dark figure hiding in the backseat, who would accost them and eventually do horrible, terrible things to them. As a young boy, I never understood how this was even possible. "How did they not see someone hiding in the rear of their car, just inches from where they'd be seated? Admittedly, these days, I will get into my truck, never peering into the backseat compartment. The space back there, mind you, can be cramped and anyone of significant size would find it difficult to hide there. However, I don't always drive my own vehicle and one such event occurred two nights ago and it's affected me in so many ways.
As a transit operator, my view of what is behind me is limited. Many times, when I thought I was alone and began singing to a favourite song playing on the radio, I am surprised by the 'DING' of the stop request. With all the security features that protect us drivers, sometimes you can't always see what or whom is seated directly behind you. This is a huge problem for me as I've had many nightmares of questionable people stabbing me from behind. It's a level of anxiety that I deal with on a daily basis. So at the end of my shift, usually when I'm about to return the the garage, I'll pull over to the side of the road, secure my bus and walk the length of the bus, checking for lost articles or people left onboard. The bus is always empty and I can shut off all the interior lights and be on my way.
Tuesdays are especially problematic for me. I run an afternoon shift of the 40s. Routes, 43, 45, 44 and 4. The forties head out to Evergreen, Arbor Creek and Willow Grove and I do it all on a 60 foot articulating bus. The size of this vessel can be a little overwhelming when you consider it's size, but in actuality, it's pretty easy to maneuver. However, there isn't enough time to complete the routes in a timely manner and I often find myself 45 minutes to an hour behind, usually by no fault of my own. First time was because I didn't have a working transit master (GPS) and I was unfamiliar with the routes. Working off the book, it becomes increasingly difficult to read as the night grows darker and the interior driver light, overhead, is a freakin' joke. The second time I drove the route, there was a car accident that blocked one of the two lanes heading into Sutherland and both occupants of the cars abandoned their vehicles, thus backing up traffic for hours. The last time, two days ago, the brainiacs with the City, chose to close College Drive, again, backing up traffic for nearly an hour. It took me, in my elongated bus nearly an hour to travel three blocks and cross the College Drive bridge. This put me behind almost an hour, so it was dark by the time I was rounding out my last loop, Route 44 (Willow Grove). By this time, the transit master has gone blank because it thinks that I've completed my routes and it's gone to sleep, rendering me lost to figure out the route on my own.
As I approached one of my final stops before heading for downtown, I was stopped by a fellow operator who knows that I shouldn't be out so late, especially with the articulating bus. This bus is mainly used for peak times when there's the potential for the most riders. By this time I only had a handful of riders. Krista, the fellow operator, boarded my bus and instructed all my riders to transfer to her bus, explaining that (I) was finished for the day and that she'd deliver them the rest of the way. Krista walked to the articulating part of the bus, checking for everyone and urging them to transfer to the other bus. I was double-parked, blocking the traffic behind me and neglected to do my own walk-through, believing that Krista had, indeed, cleared everyone for me. I thanked her, shut off all my lights and continued on my way.
If you've read this far in my tale, I think you may know what is coming.
Please bear with me.
I turned up my radio and began my arduous trek back to the garage, which is located outside the city on the west side. Because there's a glare from the interior lights that reflects off the front glass, I like to shut off all the lights to allow me to see the road more clearly and when you're dealing with black ice as the temperatures drop to below freezing at night, especially driving a sixty-foot articulating bus which is notorious for jackknifing on frozen surfaces, I'll take all the helpful advantages that I can.
I was traveling south on Circle Drive at the posted speed of 90km/h, being mindful of the glistening ice crystals reflecting off the asphalt, in a pitch black bus when out of nowhere... A hand grabs my shoulder from behind. My heart rate jumped from normal to a million in less than a second and I screamed at the top of my lungs and I swear that if I wasn't wearing my seatbelt, I would have exploded and skyrocketed out the top of the bus. I began screaming at this person, telling them that they scared the shit out of me and asking WHY she didn't get off when she was instructed to? She never answered she was almost as startled as I was and stepped back, disappearing once again into the darkness that shrouded the interior of the bus. Frankly, it's a miracle that I maintained control of the bus on this icy surface. I pulled onto the 8th Street exit and continued to berate this poor frightened woman. I followed my tirade, immediately, with apologies for my reaction, again scolding her for grabbing me rather than speaking up and for not coming forward when the lights were first shut off, which was probably about ten minutes before this time. I got her squared away at another stop that would take her the rest of her way to the downtown terminal, then continued on my way, taking an alternate route back to the garage, all the while, grasping at my chest.
Can a person literally be scared to death, I pondered as I struggled to calm myself. I managed to get myself back to the garage, a choice that I continue to question to this moment, because what occurred next is still bothering me to this juncture.
When I came into the supervisors window, I saw the acting supervisor who asked if I was alright. I was white as a ghost, had difficulty catching my breath and I was clutching my chest. It was decided at that point that I should take a seat and 911 was called.
The EMTs arrived within about 20 minutes and my heart rate had not slowed. They hooked me with more than a dozen sensors and tested my heart, to make sure I wasn't having a heart attack. Thankfully, I was not. They urged me that I should go to the hospital for further testing and in retrospect, I wish I had taken them up on their offer as in the two days since this incident, I've had an uncomfortable pressure in my chest, which increases with fatigue. I joked to a co-worker, that I believe I may have "blown a gasket". I'm going to call my personal physician today for a follow up. Last thing I need on my plate, now, is a fucking heart condition.
Tuesday night, all I wanted to do was go home, hug my cat and be thankful that I was still alive.
Apparently this woman, who was dressed all in black, was seated at the very back of the bus, out of the view of both myself and Krista, the other operator who'd vacated my bus. The woman, I believe, didn't speak very good English and may not have understood the words that Krista was speaking, but to sit in the back of this bus, in total blackness, not knowing where she was going or what was happening, is still inexcusable, no matter what country she was born in. Then to just grab someone, in absolute silence, was just evil. She may not have intended her actions to be considered as such, but it was a terrible thing to do to anyone.
Ninety-nine point nine times, I check and clear my bus before returning to the garage. The one fucking time I don't, this happens and it's affected me mentally and physically. It's a lesson that I will not forget and like most life lessons, it's one that I've learned the hard way.
