Dear Editor,
Guyana has been described by letter writers and columnists alike as the place that civilization touched but briefly. Blackness and darkness, stupid people impersonating politicians with ambition to run the country. In common parlance Guyana is the pits. But is Guyana the only place with misfits in controlling positions? I am in Maryland in the great U.S. of A where the brightest people on the planet live, well some people think so. I booked a passage with the Washington Deluxe (note the name) bus company to get me to New York to attend a funeral of a very good friend of mine. The bus itinerary said that we should be in Brooklyn around 10 p.m.
The trip from Union Station started off quite well, but after the first designated stop, outside of Philadelphia trouble surfaced. The driver pulled the bus to the side of the curb and cut the engine. He left the bus and disappeared for about ten minutes. When he returned to his seat he began talking to someone on his cell phone whom I assumed was the company to register the problem. He then departed the bus again and spent another ten minutes before returning. On his return this time he sat down and began to eat his snack that he had purchased at the designated stop. I know because I was behind him in line. When he was through he left the bus again for at least fifteen minutes this time. He returned to his seat and figured that he should tell us the passengers who were sitting patiently something. He then blurted out that the bus needed water, without which it could not move, and he was trying to get some. Which made me inquire if the water was coming from Maryland? Of course, he ignored me. It made me wonder, would an established bus company like Washington Deluxe put a bus on the road to make an almost 300-mile trip without proper maintenance? As I looked around the bus the other passengers did not seem perturbed, they were either eating, reading from their Kindle, checking their various tweets, talking on their cell phones, and those who were together were engaged in hilarious conversations.
Immediately I began to think that this is a common occurrence, hence the reason for no show of anger from anyone except me. Then to my surprise the driver left the bus and started heading up the highway. From my seat’s position I could see that he walked about a 100 meters then he disappeared from sight. Another ten to fifteen minutes evaporated then he emerged heading towards the bus. He rummaged around in the well of the bus and came out with two one-gallon oil cans, then came into the bus and informed us that he had found water in the desert ahead, and he headed back to the place he had just come from. If this was not exasperating, infuriating, and annoying it would have made for good theatre. He finally returned with the water, did what he had to do and tried to start the engine, eureka, the monster began to grumble, and with that we continued our journey limping along until we got to the beginning of the New Jersey Turnpike where he found a gas station. Now that there was an abundance of water, I decided to exit the bus to overlook the operation. What I observed told me more about Washington Deluxe than I had envisioned. The driver was not putting water into the bus, he was busy filling another half a dozen one gallon containers which he put into a crate and stored at the bottom of the bus. I was perplexed. Did this mean that further down the road we would have to stop to replenish what had been used? At this point I was practically out of my skull, but I decided however that I would return to my seat, and enjoy the darkness that surrounded me. When we finally reached our last destination we had crossed over into a new day. Then I thought that, if something like this had happened in Guyana, the sky would have fallen in, but in the U.S. of A it was just unforeseen circumstances.
Yours faithfully,
Milton Bruce
