Mexican Bus Riding Part II
I knew the number of seats in each bus at one time. However, the city of Guanajuato has been upgrading their buses and I no longer know exactly how many seats are in the new buses. No matter the number, it is an irrevocable fact of life in Mexico that three times the safe occupant limit will somehow be jammed inside a bus.
This happens in other conveyances as well. All one must do to observe this fact is stand on the street and watch cabs and cars roll by. A car in Mexico, designed to seat four, will in this country comfortably hold twelve. And my Lord, a truck! A simple Ford pickup will comfortably hold an entire neighborhood. The habit of stuffing many people into vehicles is nothing new or unusual in Mexico. This is also not particular to Mexico.
Our friend, Saiko, tells us that Mexico is nothing compared with Japan. She lives in a little city outside Tokyo and must ride the train to Tokyo each day to work. The train stations and subways also have the blobbing-surging boarding technique. Instead of Mexicans, you have a writhing blob-surge of Japanese humanity trying to get on the conveyances all at the same time. But what is unique is that they have “stuffers” to assist you. These are people with what sounds like gigantic push brooms who will actually push the blob-surge of people into the door of the train so it will close. They literally “pack” you through the door and into the passenger compartment.
We need “stuffers” in Mexico!
In the last six months, I have had the privilege of “sitting” on the bus exactly three times. Another irrevocable fact of Mexican bus riding is that you can almost count on having to stand. This is usually ok. Since you will be packed tightly, sandwiched between people, backpacks, packages, and maybe a goat, there is almost no chance of falling when the bus driver makes the unavoidable death-defying hairpin turns.
Mexicans are a close and not easily embarrassed people. They have to be from generations of Mexican bus riding. When you stand on the bus, you are mashed into parts of other people’s bodies of which you would never speak in mixed company. You simply cannot afford to be squeamish and still use public transportation.
My body’s parts have been places where no married man’s should go. (God forbid if I had eaten beans that day!) I’ve had fundaments mashed into parts of me that leave me traumatized for days afterward. If I am ever lucky enough to score a seat on a bus then I can be guaranteed to have my face smashed into parts of women’s bodiesâÂ?¦parts only their husbands should touch.
My wife, however, is a good sport about this and gets a good laugh (all the time) at my expense.
If body parts do not smash you then bags, backpacks, machine parts, or any one of a variety of objects will threaten to smack you in the head. It is almost worth having to stand to avoid potential injuries.
Getting off the bus can also be a feat in human athleticism. Imagine thirty Junior High kids riding the bus to class, all standing in the aisle, and all wearing backpacks. They are packed tightly into the aisle with their backpacks interlocked like a series of cogs in a machine. If one turns, they all turn. Imagine getting past that to get out the back door of the bus!
As you can see, life as an American expat is not all fun and games. Between four-hour lunches and sitting in beautiful parks watching the world go by mainly not doing much of anything in our new lives, one must consider how we Americans struggle so valiantly with the vast differences in this culture. My God in heaven, the things with which we must contend.
