I Hate DeCamp

Your Bus Driver's Surly Demeanor, Explained

Job website CareerCast.com has released a study of 200 occupations, and, not surprisingly, bus driver ranks near the bottom -- No. 166, to be exact -- based on five criteria: environment, income, employment outlook, physical demands, and stress.

Jobs with brighter prospects, according to CareerCast.com, include undertaker (No. 164), janitor (No. 141), and sewage plant operator (No. 118). On the plus side, it apparently is better to be a bus driver than to be a photojournalist (No. 167), actor (No. 170), or nuclear decontamination technician (No. 185).

DeCamp on Cretinous Drivers: C'est La Vie.

Nothing I hear about the depravity of DeCamp drivers surprises me. But I have to say I was taken aback by this little tale from a fellow rider responding to one of my rants:

"Be glad you don't have one that plays sick jokes on you by passing you up (then stops, then lurks forward, then stops and finally leaves you behind). It happened to a few of us on the end leg of the 66R line last year - and according to 'headquarters,' there's nothing they can do about it because 'miserable people will always be miserable.'"

Charm Offensive

Me: (Trying to pay for my ticket on the bus this morning with a $20 bill, a massive denomination the likes of which my driver apparently has never seen before) "How much do I owe you?"

Driver: (Pushes a button on his little computer panel and "$6.35" appears on the screen. He points at it. Says nothing.)

Me: (Handing him $20 bill) "Here you go."

Driver: (Deep, drawn-out sigh. Snatches bill from my hand and flips it onto his dash. Fishes for change and comes up with four singles.) "Later."

Me: "I'm sorry. What?"

Driver: "Change. Later."

Asshole. Now.

The Way It Should Be

This morning I took the 8:54 66 bus into the city. My driver was Friendly, Professional Dreadlocks Guy (not to be confused with Silent Dreadlocks Guy, who is a contestant for Worst DeCamp Driver Ever). The bus was right on time. FPDG took my ticket with a warm "good morning." He drove expeditiously yet carefully, pulling into the Port Authority at exactly 9:28. As we approached the end of the tunnel, he informed us in a soothing tone -- so as not to rouse those of his charges savoring the last moments of their slumber? -- that we would soon be arriving at our destination. Finally, he wished us all good day.

O, DeCamp! Would that all your drivers were as capable, as caring as Friendly, Professional Dreadlocks Guy!

Yakkity-Yak

I was shocked -- shocked! -- to read this email from a DeCamp rider (and not just because of the poor spelling, punctuation, and grammar), circulated today via Clever Commute: 

It's understandable that there is no cell phone use policy while riding the buses, but there should be a no driver/patron talking policy too.  840 am 66 from the YMCA driver has not shut up yet and patron doesn't exactly have a quite voice.  Everytime they both are on the bus together it's like this.

Wonder what Sal's schedule was this morning....

Driver Profile: Sal

If you enjoy the feeling of being held hostage by an awful Vegas lounge performer first thing in the morning, you'll love Sal.

Sal, for those yet to encounter his wit and unique perspective on the world, is the short, neat, and somewhat fussy driver who keeps up a constant patter as he drives. He's the kind of guy who always has a flirtatious remark for the ladies and a pinch on the cheek for the young ones. He makes corny jokes. He puns. He has little catch phrases, like "Oh boy, oh boy!" and "Cha cha cha!" He never shuts up.

Often times, even when Sal isn't your driver, you feel as if he is your driver, because you can hear his idiotic chatter over the radio as he yuks it up with other drivers.

I've always believed that people who are constantly joking -- well, joking is really the wrong word, because jokes are funny -- who banter so relentlessly that it feels like a kind of aggression, are actually deeply disturbed and desperately trying to hide something unpleasant. So it wouldn't surprise me to find that Sal had once done black ops in Southeast Asia, or run over someone with his bus and lammed it to Mexico for a couple of years.

I know that some people at my stop -- seemingly intelligent, discerning, tasteful people -- find Sal charming. He makes me gag.

Silent Dreadlocks: When Passengers Attack

Tensions are rising.

Last week I was witness to a scene involving Silent Dreadlocks Guy and a passenger waiting for the bus on Valley Road near Mt. Hebron. Basically, Silent Dreadlocks blew right past the guy, who proceeded to sprint after the bus, bang on the door until he got Ol' Stoneface's attention, and, after boarding, berate him for not stopping. How heated did it get? Silent Dreadlocks actually spoke -- real words! -- in his defense. The words, something about a stoplight which in fact had nothing to do with anything, made absolutely no sense, but still...

Then yesterday, inspired by sunny conditions and a wide-open Route 3, Silent Dreadlocks put the pedal to the metal and was doing a brisk 30 MPH, driving a middle-aged lady passenger into a rage. Sitting at the front of the bus -- directly to the right of the driver's seat! -- she called DeCamp on her cell phone to complain. I was sitting several rows back, so I didn't hear exactly what was said, but my sense was she undermined her cause by being obnoxious and loudly complaining about how she was going to be late for a meeting. Another passenger actually chided her for her lack of foresight, saying, "It's DeCamp time. You've got to plan for it."

Driver Profile: Silent Dreadlocks Guy

This guy usually drives the 66 that is supposed to arrive at my stop at 8:39 in the morning. He typically arrives after the scheduled 8:54. That is because he is the slowest driver on DeCamp's payroll. He is not cautiously slow -- like, to make sure he keeps a safe distance from other cars in stop-and-start traffic. He is inexplicably slow. Pathologically slow. This morning Route 3 was wide open, and he drove a steady 35 or 40 MPH all the way into the city. He has a screw loose.

Not that you would know it from talking to him, because he doesn't speak. To describe him as laconic would be wildly overstating his verbal output. Tell him, "Have a good day," and you get silence. "Are there any seats left?" Silence. "Do you stop at Laurel Place?" [Sound of crickets chirping.] One is left to parse the rare monosyllabic response or grunt with the care and scrutiny applied by North Korea watchers to Kim Jong Il's once-a-decade public utterances. He is a certifiable nut job.

Note: silent dreadlocks guy is not to be confused with friendly, professional dreadlocks guy, who frequently drives the 8:09 AM 66. Friendly, professional dreadlocks guy is almost always on time, provides you information when you ask for it, and, on arrival at Port Authority, gets on the PA to wish everyone a good day. Every day.

Evasive Maneuvers

Everything you need to know about driving a bus can be learned through repeated viewings of "Speed" and "The Gauntlet." Or at least that's what I imagine DeCamp tells prospective employees. "Keep the pedal to the floor, and the bus won't explode or be riddled by snipers' bullets. Other than that, just use your judgment...."

Yesterday afternoon, Sunday, I was driving west on Route 3 when traffic slowed to a crawl around that newish strip mall with the Chipotle in Clifton. Turns out the two rightmost lanes of traffic were closed due to construction/repairs of some sort. Everyone was merging left. Out of nowhere, a DeCamp bus sped in from the right, passing a long line of cars whose drivers were patiently waiting to merge. Not braking at all, it swerved left across two lanes of traffic and onward.

All in a day's work for your fearless DeCamp driver. Take that, bad guys!