Public Transportation: Etiquette

I realize that a lot of my posts are centered around the public transport, but let me defend myself quickly, the most interesting things happen in places where people from all different walks of life are forced to share their personal space together. Sometimes something crazy will happen and it's like everyone is being held hostage and we're all in it together and there's a certain sense of camaraderie that develops when you look at the person next to you and you both mouth the words "what the hell?" But that's a rarity.
People develop a sub-culture when they're routinely forced into interactions with strangers, however minimal it may be, and this culture provides a set of norms and behaviours that are deemed acceptable for interacting with (or avoiding) your fellow passengers. They are as follows:

"Ladies First"
For the most part, about 90%, the bus drivers in Buenos Aires are maniacs. They fly through traffic at brake-neck speeds with little care for other vehicles, stop signs, or crossing pedestrians. If you're not at the exact designated bus stop (usually a tree amongst a line of trees or a telephone pole with the bus number tacked on it) when the bus reaches it, the driver will not stop. Even if he sees you sprinting across the road, running down the block, waving your arms screaming "PARE" at the top of your lungs, he still will not take pity on you and stop out of human empathy. They don't like to waste time because the faster they get through their route the more time they have to grab a coffee and a snack at the end of it (I know this because I take #76 to the terminus and the driver frequently jumps out before I do). This time saving strategy extends to people getting off the bus as well. Be quick about it because the second you've got one foot on the ground outside the driver is already pulling away, doors open.
So how the 'ladies first' rule fits into it is like this: if a man or group is at the bus stop and they see you running down the road, they'll hail the bus for you (you also have to do this, stick your arm out to get the driver's attention otherwise he'll zoom right by), even if they're waiting for a different line, and pretend to loiter while you're catching up. Alternatively, if you (a lady) are amongst a group of men all waiting for the same bus they'll always allow you to get on first, even if you were third to join the group. This is great because the buses are often overcrowded, so being the first to get on at any given stop increases your odds of getting a seat dramatically.

"You Can Look But You Can't Touch"
Something that was quite a shock to me the first time it happened was sitting on the subway and suddenly having a sheet of bobby pins dropped into my lap. I looked up and saw a little boy, about 8 or 9, dropping them into unsuspecting laps. Some people saw him coming and escaped the pins by crossing their arm over their laps and shoo-ing him on with their free hand. I honestly had no idea what to do with the bobby pins and was afraid that I was going to have to give him 2 pesos for them as indicated by the price tag. I was quite miffed at the thought of having to buy them because I didn't see him coming, he didn't even give me the opportunity to say no and by the time I realized that he had meant to drop them in my lap he was already half way down the carriage. I looked around at everyone else and saw that one or two people had picked up their sheets of bobby pins and were eyeing them over, but the rest of them had left theirs in their laps or balancing precariously on their knees. It seemed as if they were trying their hardest to ignore them because they refused to look at or acknowledge the pins in any way. So I followed suit, thinking that if the kid came back for his money I could just ignore him too.
But he left the same way he came, casually picking up the sheets from the laps and knees he had left them on and from the few people who held on to theirs he collected 2 pesos. 'Not a bad system' I thought, and since that initial encounter I've had the pleasure of ignoring general pieces of crap and buying the odd pieces of useful crap that find their way onto my lap.

"Be Kind To Your Neighbors"
This rule of etiquette comes from a couple of friends of mine who've had more than their fair share of hairy experiences on long-distance buses. If for whatever reason you're traveling on a long-distance bus with a small child, and it becomes nauseous, and on the way to the bathroom it pukes in the aisle, it is your responsibility to clean it up. Not the person's whose shoes have been splattered, and certainly not everyone else's whose olfactory senses are now being assaulted by it. I'm sure you, dear reader know this, but for some people it needs reiteration.
Secondly, if you hear the guy sitting behind or across the aisle from you having a nice, normal chat and then say something like "Oh, it's coming on" and then slip into a seizure, it is not necessary to feel as if you should do something about it. Generally there will be someone with him who knows him and knows of his condition and is more mentally prepared to deal with it than you are. It is perfectly acceptable to pretend as if it's not happening at all and once it's over, not to ask him if he's okay. If after his episode he resumes conversation as normal, then he probably slips into seizures rather regularly and is quite used to it by now. There's no need to make a bad situation worse by making a sick man feel like he's a walking 'put-upon', just a matter of time until he collapses and puts himself upon another group of people. Instead, be kind to your neighbors and remember that all's well that ends well.

El Collectivo

Since I've been here I've been feeling a little bit guilty about my career path, or lack thereof, and especially for not using my Anthropology degree, or the Italian one for that matter. In my last year of University I took really great classes and even considered applying to grad school for anthropology. My favorite project was my final exam; it was a semester long ethnographic study and I did mine on my fellow bus riders without their knowledge.

I was living in Providence but I went to school 40 minutes to the south in Kingston. I started taking the bus because I was having to fill up my tank every five days and if there's anything I detest more than driving it's having to pay through the nose for gas. However, if I could afford it I'd pay for someone to drive me everywhere I needed to go for the rest of my life... like a bus driver, but more individualized.

The bus was actually a lot more interesting than I thought it was going to be, there were all sorts of characters on it. All the lunch ladies from the cafeteria seemed to live in Providence and were regular chatty Kathys on the bus in the early mornings, then in the afternoons it was a lot of stoic looking grounds keepers. And then there were just overall creepos. For instance, one time I was absent mindedly staring at this guy who was fully decked out in gold chains and the light was glistening off of him in a really hypnotic way, I just couldn't help myself. When he got off the bus my eyes continued to follow him and before he had even made it all the way up to the front an older man sitting across from me started saying in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear: "Yeah gurrrrrrl! You want that piece don't ya? I see you, staring him up and down like that, white girl wants that n*gger!" And he kept going on in this manner until he got off the bus. He scared me off for a couple of weeks but then I started taking the express out of necessity and luckily I never ran into him again.

I bring this up because I've found myself having to take the bus regularly again in my life. The office where I teach English is on the outskirts of the city so I take bus 76 for a half hour out there and then back again. For some reason they call the bus el colletivo (the collective) here and the anthropologist in my thinks it has something to do with their rich history of political and civil upheavals. They all pay for the buses and they all stand in the buses together, it's a collective that's only possible because they've brought about the necessity for it. I don't know, something like that.

I was feeling really miffed about having to sit on a bus with a bunch of other grumpy, sweaty people, all of us vying for open seats on the overcrowded colletivo. But then something happened yesterday that made me love the colletivo, a real verbal brawl went down and I understood almost all of it.

It all started with the woman who got on the bus before me, she put 1.20 into the coin machine to pay for her fare and the ticket didn't come out. She flicked the mouth of the machine for about 20 seconds, muttering 'que? que? que? que?' until the bus driver (and I'm paraphrasing) said "What's the problem?"

"The ticket isn't coming out."

"How much did you put in?"

"1.20"

"The fare's 1.25"

"What the HELL?! It's always been 1.20! Are you out of your mind? You're trying to rob me, why don't you just take my wallet and beat me up?!"

"Lady, I don't make the rules. The fare went up, it's not my fault."

"You people, my God, you're all thieves."

But she put the extra 5 centavos in and got her ticket and went and sat down. I paid my fare and sat down in front of her and was pleased to note that she was still fuming.

At the next stop people got on and we moved forward to wait at a red light. Then this little old lady tapped on the door, obviously wanting to get on, and being a stickler for rules the bus driver waggled his index finger 'no' at her, 'only at designated stops, no matter how much trouble you have walking."

As we started moving through the green light a woman in front of me with a baby on her lap started addressing the bus driver as 'Muchacho' in a highly aggressive tone. I couldn't really understand what she was saying because the woman behind me was saying very quietly 'how rude' and then louder 'how rude' and louder still 'how rude' until finally the bus driver broke off from his argument with the mother to turn around 120 degrees in his seat and start yelling at her too! And then all chaos ensued.

Both women were yapping at him and he was yelling at them and you could tell he was getting angrier and angrier by the second because his foot kept getting heavier against the gas pedal and we were going dangerously fast through the city, even by Argentine standards. I was basically caught in the middle of this argument between the driver and the women sitting both in front and behind me so I looked to the other passengers for some sort of reference and was relieved to see that they were all gripping the sides of their seats as well.

The mother picked up her baby and stood next to the bus driver because her stop was coming up but this didn't slow down her tirade. With one arm holding the baby and the other being used to gesticulate obscenities at him I marvelled at how she balanced herself as we bumped along and swerved through traffic. It could only have been pure rage that kept her standing.

Anyway, she finally got off and this left only the lady behind me who hadn't let up for one second. He was a cretin, an idiot, a peasant, badly educated, all these words I understood so I know for sure she was saying them. He may have been all those things but he was also a maniac because we really were driving far too fast for a bus in the city. At a red light we actually caught up to another bus 76 that was in front of us on the same route and the lady behind me took this opportunity to make her grand exit. She stood up, spat on the ground and demanded that he let her off the bus, which he was only too happy to do, in the middle of the road. She got off, still yelling obscenities at him, spat on the ground again, marched over to the bus 76 that we were now pulled up along next to and continued to hurl insults at him through the open windows.

My bus driver opened the doors again and called out to the other driver, "She's your problem now! Pass me that newspaper." To which the other driver gave a crooked smile and threw his paper through the window and into the bus.

I can only hope that the rest of my bus rides be half as entertaining as this because I have now been inspired to start an entirely new ethnography.