Design Blocks: Bus Shelter

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

I just missed bus 13, so it’ll be a half hour wait before the next one arrives. I take a seat in the bus shelter and let my eyes wander until they take notice of a man with a hurried stride headed my way. He sits next to me and I say hi.
“Yeah hey… you know when the bus is coming?”
“In about 30 minutes I think.”
And it’s like this that our conversation began. We failed to properly introduce ourselves, so I’ll refer to him as James.

James is a multi-tasker. From the moment he sat next to me at the bus stop, he was texting, talking, jumping up to scan the street and counting the minutes.
James lives just three blocks south of the Goodwill bus stop. He used to live on the New Jersey coast, but now he’s in Greensboro to help out his sister and her two kids.
“They don’t got no father or nothing.”
I ask James if he’s taken a liking to North Carolina, and he says “no”.
James asks me if I’m from around here, and I tell him I’m from Durham, which leads James to purse his lips and shake his head.
James is on the phone again. It’s a brief call.
“Where you at? Alright… well I’m waiting.”
James is getting impatient. He expresses this in a mumbled “man, I hate this shit.”
James explains that he’s waiting for a friend to meet him at the Goodwill parking lot.
“So you’re not riding the bus?” I ask.
“No, I only take the bus when I have to. Sometimes I can get a ride from a friend.”
I decide to let James know about the school assignment and he seems to take an interest… but no video and no photos. He offers up some advice.
“Why don’t you get rid of these holes in the wall?”
I twist my neck has he points to the metal paneling behind us that is indeed punctured with a grid of small holes.
“People get all wet when it rains. But I guess they built it that way to keep people from sleeping the night here.”
I glance away and say that he’s probably right and then a question comes to mind
“What were the bus shelters like in Jersey?”
James goes on to describe some sort of Plexi-glass paneling in a more spacious shelter and then he adds “But that shit still stays real cold in the winter.”
James’ phone vibrates once and he answers.
“You here?”
He stands up and walks towards the parking lot with the same hurried stride. There’s no wave good bye.

Friday, September 5, 2008

GTA No. 12 Bus Ride

I chose to wait at the bus stop across from the Shiloh Baptist Church on S. Eugene St. As I sat on a crowded bench, I thought about the two Woolworth protesters who attended Shiloh Baptist, and I wondered what they were doing now... if they still attended Sunday service with the same community here in South Greensboro.

Sitting on the bench next to me was an elderly woman who told me that she was riding the bus in the hope of finding a job at an assembly plant. When I asked her if she enjoyed riding the bus, she replied that if it wasn't for the distance, she'd be walking. Apparently the GTA bus fare just went up 10 cents and she was of the opinion that this was a little steep.

A young woman and a child joined us on the bench. The child was busy eating chips and the woman was ending a cell phone call. When she clicked her phone shut, I asked her what neighborhood we were in. She said she was from South Carolina, and didn't know what the neighborhood was called, but that the housing block across the way was known as "Saint James". I looked out across the road to where she was pointing and noticed a compound of low brick buildings surrounded by a black wrought iron fence. That must've been Saint James.

By the time the bus pulled up, the GTA stop was crowded with people trying to stay in the shade of the shelter. It was hot, and the bus' arrival was a relief.

On board, the bus was nearly full. A quick glance around led me to realize that I was the only "whitish" person there (I'm a Chinese and Caucasian). The young man sitting next to me seemed to realize this too. He asked me "what are you doing riding the bus?" and I said that I was headed downtown. He told me that his name was Julio and that he was born in Greensboro. Julio asked me what I was called, what I was and where was I from, so I gave him my name and claimed Durham as my hometown. Julio seemed to think that Durham was "backwoods", saying that the only reason he ever went to the Bull City was to visit with his cousin who's locked up. He gestured towards the windows of the bus with his hand and highlighted what looked like a block of abandoned industrial buildings "This is where it's at, the night life is off the chain!". I just kind of shrugged, saying that I didn't know much about Greensboro. No one else on the bus was talking. I was worried that our conversation was somehow breaking bus conduct. No... let me take that back. I was feeling uncomfortable about being the "different one".

We traveled a ways in silence. I looked below as we climbed an overpass and there underneath was a parking lot full of retired buses surrounded by chain linked fencing. I thought to myself, "this must be the transition point". A place where the grass really does get greener. We were entering downtown and suddenly the Salvation Armies and Goodwills were replaced with trendy shops, and tree lined boulevards.

Julio turned to me... "my family's from Panama" is all I heard.

"Excuse me?"

He said it again "my family is originally from Panama. That's why I'm called Julio"

"Oh."

"But I ain't ever been to Panama. Greensboro's all I know."

"Ok, well why don't you tell me where I should get off downtown... some place cool."

Immediately I felt better. Maybe Julio told me about his foreign heritage because he was trying to make me feel better about being out of place. He suggested that I get off at the Bus Depot. "It's the next stop. You can go anywhere from there."

I took Julio's advice and stepped off the bus with a wave good bye and to my surprise, the GTA Depot wasn't nearly as black or white as I'd expected. I'd come to a diverse gathering point... a place where Greensboro suddenly felt familiar.