All Stops on the Crane Line

            Brian stared out the bus window trying to get over the wave of motion sickness that fell over him as soon as the bus started lurching and jerking through the heavy downtown traffic. He was glad he’d found a seat. He thought if he was standing he would have likely thrown up all over that nice old lady at the front. The bus driver seemed bent on destroying everyone’s day before it even really began.

            The bus weaved in and out of traffic and accelerated too fast and stopped too hard. The brakes on the bus sounded like the screaming pleas of orphan children trapped inside the burning hulk of a sweat shop. It made Brian cringe. He took a deep breath and tried to erase that image from his mind, but with every tap on the brakes the screaming started again. Brian realized he was sweating.

            He thought he might be having an anxiety attack like he used to have as a student. The pressure his father put on Brian to excel was immense. During a sixth grade spelling be, with his father watching, Brian passed out while trying to spell the word, ‘excommunication’; which in his young opinion was a little bit too hard of a word for a sixth grade spelling bee. Brian’s father didn’t actually speak to him for two weeks after that.

            The bus continued to barrel down the streets as if the devil was chasing it. Brian could see that he wasn’t the only other person not exactly enjoying their morning commute. The faces of the other riders showed they too were in some amount of panic. There were some very serious white knuckle riders.

            The bus came to another very hard stop at a red light and finally someone had enough. A burly but aging man shouted from the back of the bus.

            “What the hell man? Are you trying to kill us? Drive normal”, shouted the man.

            The bus driver did not respond. Brian didn’t even think the bus driver heard the question or request. There was no acknowledgment or even a twitch of the right arm that Brian could see. The bus idled in place and things got very quiet. A blanket of nerves covered everyone on the bus, blocking any sound from penetrating. Brian looked out the window and saw the cross traffic signal turn from yellow to red.

            The bus jumped forward at the green light and all the passengers had to hold onto the seats and poles for their lives. There were audible cries and gasps and Brian realized he was clenching his teeth.

            “Hey! I said to slow it down man,” shouted the burly man from earlier.

            The man, dressed in Jeans and a White Sox jacket, started moving through the bus toward the driver. The bus swerved hard and the G-Forces pushed everyone to the left. The man stretched to reach a hand rail and almost fell to the ground. The rest of the passengers started to get upset and shout.

            “God Damn it man! What the hell”, said a business man.

            “What the hell,” yelled a business woman.

            “Aye, Aye, Aye, moron,” said a young college looking guy.

            Brian didn’t say anything. His stop was getting closer and he’d soon be off this bus and safe in his little cubicle. The cubicle, something he normally hated, but felt that this morning he’d be more than happy to spend some quality time in it.

            The bus’s brakes screamed again like chorus of damned children and the bus stopped hard. Brian felt his stomach roll forward in his body and he was almost lifted from his seat and then slammed backwards as the bus settled.

            “Jesus Christ man,” shouted another passenger.

            Brian’s stop was the next one. He started to feel the anxiety draining away. He would soon be off this crazy bus. The White Sox jacket wearing burly guy finally made it to the front of the bus and turned to say something to the driver. His face was flushed and Brian thought the bus driver was really going to get it from this guy. Maybe the White Sox guy might even punch him out. Brian hoped not, considering his stop was next. He just wanted to get to work.

            “Holy Mother of Christ,” said the burly guy as he backed away.

            The bus started moving forward again as Brian stood from his seat to pull the cord to request a stop. The burly guy looked back at the other passengers and just opened and closed his mouth. Brian stepped up toward him as the bus leaned hard to the right toward Brian’s requested stop. The burly guy looked at Brian in the face and then stepped aside.

The bus came to a hard stop and Brian moved toward the door. He didn’t look. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to know what the burly guy saw.

            The doors opened and Brian practically jumped off the bus. The doors slammed behind him and Brian turned around and looked back up at the driver through doors. The bus started to pull away from the curb and Brain saw the burly White Sox jacket guy stumble backwards toward his previous seat. Brian only caught a glimpse of the driver, but he didn’t see the face. There was no face. It was a headless bus driver still performing his duty.  Brian suddenly remembered Sleepy Hollow and then fainted to the sidewalk like the anxiety ridden sixth grader he’d always been inside.