Tales from a Mexican Bus Passenger

Riding the bus in Mexico isn't the same as riding one in the US. First, the paradas, or bus stops, are a joke. You can wave a bus down pretty much any where you want to. Half the time when you are at an official parada, the bus may not even stop for whatever reason.

Another thing is that the buses here are definitely a safety hazard. Many times I have ridden on the bus with a window or two smashed, having shards of glass dangling from the frame. Equally as often, I had to jump off buses as they were moving. Apparently making a complete stop so passengers can get off takes up too much time!

The other day, while on the bus, I experienced something for the first time. Heading home, I noticed that another bus in the next lane was driving dangerously close to the bus I was on. So close that I could see the rat tails of the guys on the other bus. Eventually, both buses pulled over and before I knew it, my bus driver was wailing punches at the other driver. I could not believe it. I was really proud that it was my driver who was kicking the other driver's ass. American bus drivers just don't have that kind of pride.

There are, however, some perks to riding the bus. Some HOT HOT HOT perks. I hopped on the R3 after work, per usual, and handed my bus fare over to an anything but per usual Guadalajaran bus driver. He was young, hot and stylish...all qualities that I have never seen before on a driver. His beautiful face was partially covered with a trendy trimmed bread with all sorts of symbols and markings shaved into it. He wore tight levis that were held up by a thick Diesel belt. Soon after I got on, the bus broke down. ugh. He told the passengers to wait only a minute and that he would fix it soon. The engine of the bus was on the inside and in perfect view of where I was sitting. He squatted down on the floor and squirmed all around like a hot and sexy Mexican worm. At this point, the other passengers started to leave to catch another bus. I, on the other hand, was quite comfortable - if you know what I mean. And then, THEN in a fit of rage for not being able to start the engine, the driver RIPS his shirt completely off. I watched for another 15 minutes as he wiggled on the bus floor, half naked and covered in grease. All I could think was "GOD BLESS MÉXICO" and took pleasure in knowing that I was living out every latinophile's dream. If only he had turned around and spit in my face!