Tormented

Growing up, I was small.  A skinny little kid with bad asthma.  A weakling that the bigger and tougher kids viewed as easy prey.  I can remember being picked on and teased on the school bus, many times by those who would turn around and be my best mate once we were off the bus.  Growing up is a confusing time, to say the least.

My school, at the time, only went up to Grade Six.  Grades Six and Seven were to take place at another school a few blocks away where I, again, was bullied by the bigger and now older kids.  One kid, Jimmy, was fourteen or fifteen years old, still in the seventh grade.  I remember Jimmy having it in for me, then he "moved" away for a few months.  When Jimmy returned, he was all smiles and nice to me..., for the first day, then the terrorizing commenced.  Later we'd come to learn that Jimmy hadn't moved away so much as he was incarcerated for the duration of his absence.  I guess this was my first glimpse into the darker side of life.

High school was no different.  I entered high school, again, as this skinny little weakling which drew the attention of another bully.  This time it was a seventeen or eighteen year old kid with a shitty little hint of a mustache growing on his upper lip, who took an interest in, not only bullying me, but tormenting me to the point where I was fearful to attend school.  Of course, this was during a time when 'if you were too afraid, too fucking bad, you're going to school'.  So I would often be late for my classes because I had to take the long way around the school to get to my class.  It was quite hellacious for me, as I recall.

This memory, the memory of being tormented in high school only recently returned to my conscious, triggered by an event that took place on Monday morning, as I rode the 86 bus to the Circle Park Mall where I like to spend time before taking over my afternoon work piece.

I sat near the front, in a side facing seat, quietly playing a game on my phone, a pastime I do to pass time on the otherwise boring trip eastbound down Eighth Street.  At the Midtown Plaza stop we picked up more passengers, one being a greasy dirty looking individual who sat in the side facing seat across from me.  I avoided eye contact, focusing on my game instead.  A few minutes pass and the figure across from me, says "Hey!"  I looked up, meeting his gaze, "I do not condone you taking my picture."

"Okay." I replied, "I'm not taking your picture.  I'm playing a game."  Then I resumed my gameplay and never followed up.  I could feel him looking at me, though, which made things uncomfortable.  Especially, a few minutes later, when he spoke up, getting my attention once again.  "Hey!  I don't want my picture taken!"  To which I informed him that I was still playing my game, even flipping my phone around to show him the screen, which was nothing more than multiple shelves with products on them, the purpose being I have to sort them in multiples of three.  It's quite challenging. 

Believing that should quell the situation, I resumed gameplay again.  However, the situation was not resolved, even with the visual evidence to prove it.  "HEY!!" he yelled again, now even more agitated, "I said DON'T TAKE MY PICTURE!!!"  That's when I kinda lost it, speaking louder to match his volume, "I told you, I'm NOT taking your picture!!  I don't know you!!  Why would I take your picture?  I'm playing a game and minding my own business!"  "F*CK YOU!!!" he yelled, "You're moving your phone to take my picture."

"The sun is behind me!!" I called, "I'm moving the phone to see it!!"  He wasn't buying what I was selling and that's when the bus driver called back to calm the situation.  I apologized as my reaction was not that of professionalism.  I was wearing my bus driver uniform at the time and should represent the City of Saskatoon accordingly.  I explained to her what was going on.  She asked if I wanted the authorities to be notified, to which I denied that it'd be necessary, figuring that the crazy guy seated across from me would accept that I'm a good dude for not having the police engage, but no.  His fury was now elevated.  I returned my attention to my game, but I could hear him seething across from me.  Then he began to utter threats.  "I swear if you take one more picture, I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Is everything alright back there?" Donna, the driver asked, to which I replied, "Sorry for the disruption.  I'm fine, but this gentleman is shooting darts at me with his eyes.  I think he wants to hurt me."  All the while, he's muttering his vile threats of murder.  Suffice it to say, despite my ability to hide my fear at the time, I was terrified.  I knew that the moment I stepped off the bus that my safety was now in question.  

He got off at the Indigo Book Store stop on 8th Street, right next to the Circle Park Mall, my destination.  I was SO overwhelmed with fear that I remained on the bus for the duration of the Route 86 through Rosewood.  I eventually did get off the bus, obviously, then went to the food court, reasoning that there'd be lots of witnesses if this nut job were to track me down and shove a knife in my back.  Yes, this was my reasoning at the time.

I remember looking up at this guy, when he sat across from me in tattered black clothing, with a ratty torn up hood draped over his head.  His complexion was dark, but his soul was way darker.  There was something not right about this particular fellow.  Not just regarding his lack of civility, but his soul seemed absent or tarnished.  He was afflicted with something that was altering his psyche.  Whether it's through substance abuse or devil worship, this man was not human, anymore.

I looked up as he's foaming at the mouth, relentlessly repeating that he's going to kill me.  In retrospect, maybe I should have had the authorities notified, but over the course of my short tenure with City Transit, I've been tackled, attacked and threatened quite a few times, already, as has many of my fellow drivers, so it's beginning to become 'old hat' at this point.  

In the past, I'd take a few minutes to gather my nerves then press on for the remainder of my day.  I tried doing the same with this situation, except the experience unlocked that fear in me that I had as a freshman in high school when that Twelfth Grader took it upon himself to dedicate his bullying to just me.  That overwhelming fear that I might be attacked or maimed or worse at some point, took over my thoughts.  So much so, that yesterday, when I was driving my Route 17, I came to a corner in Stonebridge and recognized this crazed individual crossing the street in front of me.  I was nowhere near the man, when he turned his attention to the bus and began flailing his arms about and cursing at the bus.  I immediately recognized the tattered black clothing, the dark complexion and the crazed ranting.  What stood out most was the glowing eyes.  I realize this sounds absurd, but I swear this is what I saw and for the remainder of my seventeen loop, I was distracted.  Distracted by how I was going to avoid this individual if he was going to be at the bus stop around the corner.

Do I drive right past him, as if I don't see him?  Tough to do, as there's a traffic light right there.  If I get stopped at the light, he will gravitate to the bus, like a shit-magnet.  Then I thought, maybe he won't even be there.  Alas, when I returned, he was there, indeed.  He immediately recognized me when he got onboard.  I kept my gaze straight ahead, sunglasses covering my eyes, but I could tell he was glaring at me.  My farebox was out of commission, having fallen apart earlier in the day with the prior driver.  All the potholes and uneven streets, shook the hell out of the unit causing pieces to fall about.  The angry fellow seemed perturbed by the missing device and slammed his hand down on the remaining structure.

Prior to his getting on the bus, I moved the Assault Barrier glass all the way to the front of the door.  Fat good the tempered glass would have in protecting me, considering the guy now had what appeared to be dumbbell bars in his possession.  I've been hit with a tire iron, when I was a kid.  That was no picnic, what with the sizeable lump it left on my head, so these bars could do some considerable damage to the human skull, I'm sure.

He eventually got off the bus at 8th Street and Clarence Avenue.  I looked on with a heavy sigh of relief as the psycho and his demons wandered off across the Seven-Eleven parking lot.  I realize now that the experience on Monday may have affected me more than I initially realized.  I actually feel terrorized.  But I also feel that this crazed individual was not all human, either.  Whether that be the fact that he's crazier than hell or that he's pouring something down his throat that's altering his humanity.  

I had a meeting with management yesterday afternoon, following my encounter with the crazed individual.  The terror was still fresh and after the conclusion of our initial meeting, I asked 'how I should handle this experience as it's affecting me on a whole'.  The higher ups which included one of the Supervisors who had worked with me during my probation.  He had some genuine concerns with how this individual was directing his anger and torment towards a Transit Operator IN uniform.  I could see by the look on his face that this was news to him.  I think a lot of the assaults and mistreatment of drivers goes unseen and is often overlooked by some of the supervisors and management.  Everyone views the world through rose coloured glasses which hides all the ugliness.

I was told to put in a Worker's Compensation Report, just in case my condition worsens.  I hope it doesn't as I do enjoy my job.  My future, though, is foggy.  I used to think that if I were to die under unnatural causes, it'd be from a vending machine falling on me.  Now I believe I may be stabbed or killed while working.  That's a helluva thought, huh?  But I saw it in a dream and it was vivid as all hell.