The bus today had a voice of its own. Not the onboard announcer, but the brakes. Rather than the signature high-pitched squeal when released, they let out a low, baleful moan. Sort of like a sigh.
The first northbound was sweet as can be for a weekday, during this final week of the year. I made the Mizner loop in Boca and waiting at the very next stop was my joking regular.
"My friend! I thought it was Steve."
'No, you're stuck with me!' I responded, not sure if it was good or bad to be in Steve's stead.
"I'm blessed to be stuck with you! God bless you and your entire family. Give me a second to sit down."
He was my only passenger the whole time he was on, just a few minutes over Hillsboro inlet back in to Broward.
"Where is everybody?" He squeak-asked when he noticed the empty seats.
'I guess they're still on vacation. Not like you, huh?' It was barely eight a.m., not exactly an hour for slouches.
"I'm on perpetual vacation." He ponderously replied after a moment.
On the radio an operator in south county was calling in a harrowing report. A man in a car with paper tags was stalking a girl on her bus. The driver saw the suspect brandish a knife and received instructions on what to do next. Her vigilance may have prevented a tragedy that day.
There was no such stress on my bus, the only issue in the early trips being a sticky transmission during the downshift, which gave us a noticeable jolt before coming to a complete stop. And the persistent sighing.
Across the street, the right lane was closed in front of the Mai-Kai. A forklift was in the street, dangling an enormous wooden Polynesian god by a strap. It would be installed right by the sidewalk, a tireless sentry keeping watch over the restaurant day and night without closing its eyes.
In Pompano I picked up a coworker heading downtown for a shift at Central Terminal. He was on light duty which involves assisting customers, providing schedules, and other low impact activities. He was itching to get back in the saddle. Arriving at the terminal in good time, I secured the bus and walked with him to the driver's lounge. The schedule gave me a nice little break before my final trip, something not guaranteed in this business.
Rolling back north, another disturbing call came over the radio. A driver reported Oakland Park Boulevard was closed near Deepside due to police activity. Apparently they were chasing a naked man running in the street.
Our quiet day continued as it had all morning: drama-free. I picked up one of my Brazilian friends and she wished me Feliz Natal.
At the Pompano Beach Cemetery stop, a slight older woman boarded.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked in a gentle voice.
'$2 regular, $1 reduced for seniors, medicare, disabled...' I replied, counting those eligible on my fingers.
"Well, I am 72," she declared. Her nimble entry gave a far younger impression.
'I never would have guessed,' I found myself admitting. 'You must be doing something right!'
"I am. I'm living for God." She explained as she found a seat. "I have a son who's 58," she added to remove any doubt.
The Copans Road relief point was soon upon us and the next driver waited to take over. He greeted me as "Driver of the Year" - certainly the most mild of the many playful jabs I'd received during my Operator of the Month tenure.
It was more than seven hours on the clock by now, the morning shift of the split completed. The afternoon piece was a trip to the Health District in Miami, a commuter route with lots of highway time. The District was uncharacteristically a ghost town, with no traffic to speak of. A world change from the typical daily crawl during the rest of the year.
A man in navy blue scrubs and glasses waited at one of the last stops before we got back on 95.
"Is this the 595 Express?" he asked. The headsign had reverted to NOT IN SERVICE.
'Yes. The sign is acting up. Everything else works.'
"It reads SOUTH BEACH," he cracked, clearly ready to relax.
'I was hoping for Key West! We'll just hop on the highway and head south.' It's ok to dream, even when you're going north.
After servicing the Sunrise Park & Ride at BB&T Center and dropping off the final passenger, the bus truly was out of service and on its way back to the barn. The Sawgrass Expressway took me through the coral hues of the setting sun flaming out over the Everglades. Sample Road took me east where the early evening darkness descended quickly. There was no hurry now, just one final mission to return the bus intact.
A surprise delay appeared while I sat at the University Drive red light. Police escorted a caravan that seemed to be a mile long as it slowly drifted south. Just about every car exhibited a lighted menorah of unique size and style on its roof.
Dusky dimness transitioned to night blackness, punctuated by this illuminating procession. Part of me tried to believe the day had been like any other, ending as it had begun. Part of me knew better than that, as the light turned green and our own caravan called it a day.
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