A Three Minute Adventure: Back to the 1940s

Mariah Loves Earth and Hotpot.ai. Waiting. 2023

It was a quiet morning. There were magpies trilling, swooping through the air, and pecking at the ground. But there was not a soul in sight. It’s usually that way when I walk to the bus stop. I like to leave a little earlier than everyone else because it’s so peaceful. The sunbeams start to peek over the rooftops and the air is still frosty. Clouds begin to shift from a royal purple to a blushing rose at the time that I leave my front-door. 

Except, today was different. When I left my house there was someone walking on my usual route. This man was wearing a pin-striped zoot suit with a wide-brimmed pork pie hat to match. It was a good look, but about 80 years out of fashion and Halloween was about two weeks ago. As he walked, he swung a brass pocket watch on a long chain and whistled a ditty. The sun kept reflecting from the watch into my eyes and obscuring my vision. We walked at the same pace, with him keeping a consistent 15 feet in front of me.

After about a minute of walking, I heard the same whistle behind me. I glanced back, and there was a man in a beige zoot suit with a wide-brimmed fedora that had a bouncing auburn feather. In his hand, there was a large coin that he flipped. The sun glinted off of the coin and I was unable to get a good look at him. I began to feel a little uneasy.

 By this time, I could see the bus stop, what I saw almost made me stop dead in my tracks. There were dozens of them! Grey, black, burgundy, and even eggplant zoot suits could be seen. What a sight! Before this, I don’t think I’d ever seen a zoot suit in real life. My shoulders began to relax. They were clearly going to some zoot suit convention. 

Checking the time, I saw that I was right on schedule. Hearing the bus pull in I glanced up. This was definitely not my usual bus—although, it did say number 14. It looked like it was straight out of the 1940s. Through the windows, I could see that no passenger looked like a contemporary of mine. Women had curled hair with fancy hats, looking like they were from a Humphrey Bogart movie, and all the men were in out-dated pleated suits with wide ties. Passengers read newspapers, chatted, and smoked cigarettes—which I’m pretty sure isn’t allowed. And it struck me that not a single person was on their phone. I walked on and showed the bus driver my pass. 

“Yeah right wise-guy. You take me for a fool? Coins go in the slot,” the bus driver rolled his eyes.

“Uh, what do you mean? This is my bus pass,” I questioned, taken aback.

“I ain’t never seen something like that in my life! Not here it isn’t,” he frowned, gesturing at the coin box.  

“Is this a city bus?” I asked with confusion.

“Wow, do you ever have a lot of questions? Look, the city pays me to drive this bus and their rules are the rules. Coins in the slot,” he impatiently stated while tapping the coin box.  

Opening my wallet, as I expected, I had no coins. I couldn’t remember the last time I paid with cash. Looking at the bus driver, up and down, I noticed his old fashioned uniform.

“I’ll wait for the next bus!” I muttered as I slowly stepped backwards and off. It glided away and I watched it drive into the distance. Scratching my head I tried to grasp what just happened. Less than a minute later another number 14 peeled into the stop. And everything was normal. I saw passengers with headphones nodding to music, people scrolling on their phones, and hoodies with baggy jeans. I stepped in, flashed my bus pass, and the driver nodded me on. The same driver who drove the number 14 everyday.

“Hey, why were their two number 14s today? Is some event going on,” I asked as she drove. 

“I’m not sure what you are talking about. I’m the only number 14 at this time of morning,” she confidently stated with eyes glued to the road.

“Oh okay, thanks for confirming,” I said as I walked to take a seat. 

Every morning since then, I’ve attempted to arrive a couple minutes early just to see if one day I could catch that bus. I always have coins on me. But something tells me that my three minute adventure will remain a memory.