It was raining hard, and the bus splashed slowly forward. I remembered the words of one bus driver when I had asked him how long a trip would take: “If it doesn’t rain, and if there is no traffic, and if there are no landslides, and if we don’t get stopped by the military, and with the favor of God…” It was definitely raining now. One thing was for sure: we would not arrive in the scheduled time.
It was dark when we finally pulled into the station. I asked one of my fellow passengers for the time. It was a few minutes after nine o’clock. If the nine o’clock bus to my town had left on time, I had just missed it. Sometimes that is the last bus of the day on that route, and sometimes there is one more.
I stepped outside and collected my luggage. I put the carrying straps over my shoulder and took a moment to arrange it all on my back, leaving my right arm free. My luggage was too much – and too heavy – to walk quickly with it, so I resigned myself to getting soaked.
The guards at the door to the bus station saw me coming with too much luggage to fit through the single door. Chuckling, they opened the double door for me and returned my greeting as I thanked them and walked in.
It seemed like everyone inside turned to look at me. I realized that I would stare, too, if a tall white girl came walking in alone, dripping wet, and carrying enough luggage for a whole family.
I set down my bags to rest for a while and to look around. Having come in on a nicer bus, I was at the more expensive end of the station. People were well dressed and spoke quietly in modulated voices. Although I had obviously attracted their attention, they did not openly stare. Some were talking on cell phones. The ticket counters were for first class and executive class busses. I looked down the line of counters for the bus line that would hopefully take me home. There it was, way down at the other end.
I braced myself, and picked up one piece of luggage, then another, steadying the load after each one. Again, I had everyone’s attention. Mindful of the spectacle, I stood as tall and gracefully as I could under the heavy load and walked all the way down the length of the bus station.
At the ticket counter, I let my bags fall. This end of the station was dominated by rancheros – complete with wide-brimmed sombreros and burlap sacks as luggage – and a few young men of unsavory appearance. The people at this end did not bother to dissimulate their stares. I didn’t mind being the center of such obvious attention, especially since for all I knew I might be there for a couple of hours. I knew that if anyone assaulted me, he’d have to do it with the tacit consent of everyone there, and if I had to defend myself I’d have a score of witnesses. I also knew that if I wished to ask anyone for help, I wouldn’t have to try to get his attention first.
I asked the man at the counter what time my bus would leave (hoping there still was one).
“You’ve missed it,” he said, “It left at nine.”
“Won’t there be another one?”
“Yes, but not until ten.”
I looked at the clock. It still lacked a good forty-five minutes until ten. If I left at ten, I wouldn’t get into town before eleven. There would be no taxis at that hour, and I hated to ask my friends to pick me up that late. I stepped back and looked at the schedules of the other companies in that area, to see if any of them mentioned my destination. I knew there was no point in looking back at the expensive end of the station – people pay a premium to avoid stopping in small towns like the one where I live.
Kicking my bags ahead of me, I went up to each counter that named my town. At each counter, the clerks watched me coming and grinned at each other. Other people stepped out of my way and watched me. I was pretty sure they knew what I would ask, since they had been openly listening to my previous queries. At each place, they waited for me to ask my question, and the answer was the same. There were no more busses to my town that night, except the one at ten o’clock.
I went back to the first counter and bought my ticket. Then I kicked my bags over to the payphone. Since I was obviously the only show in town, I tried to make it worth watching. I figured I might as well let everybody know that I was calling friends to pick me up at a specific time and place. I made an elaborate show of fishing through my bag for my phone card. I tried to use it and it didn’t work. I changed my public message; I decided to let everyone know that although I wasn’t worried, I did have a problem. I knitted my brows to express consternation, studied the back of the card, and tried again. I made a show of searching through my purse again, just for fun. I had the attention of the clerks at three counters, a group of low-lifers standing along a side wall, a pair of men sitting in the seats, and another group of five men also seated. None of them seemed particularly dangerous. Just to give them something to look at while I thought about what to do, I fished a couple of pesos out of my pocket, looked at the phone, looked at the pesos again, and put them back in my pocket. I stared at my card again, then picked up the receiver and dialed once more. I paused a moment to make sure everyone was watching, then I hung up, spread my hands in a gesture of frustration, and kicked my bags over to a chair in between the two groups of seated men.
The low-lifers along the wall looked at each other, and one of them slouched a couple of steps in my direction. One of the old men in the group of five leaned forward as though about to address me. But one of the pair of men behind me beat them both to it.
“Were you trying to make a telephone call?” he asked.
“Yes, but I can’t get it to work. I’m trying to call my friends. They expected me earlier, but I got in late because of the rain.”
“We were delayed because of the rain, too,” he said, “We got in a couple of hours later than expected, and we missed our bus. My relatives will come pick us up, but they won’t get here until three or so.”
“With this rain, and the water in the highways, I imagine a lot of people have the same problem.” I said.
“We do!” said the old man from the group of five rancheros. “We’ll have to spend the night. Our bus doesn’t leave until morning, and my son-in-law wouldn’t be able to come get us any sooner than that, anyway.”
“I have friends who will get me,” I said. “They were going to pick me up in my town, but I should have been there by now. I tried to call them and let them know I’d be late.”
“Why don’t you ask the guy who sold you your ticket?” asked the first man. “Maybe he could help you make your call. If you want, I can watch your things while you do that.”
I hesitated for only a moment. If he wanted to steal from me he would have to do it with the knowledge of many people, who would probably be on my side if I accused him. I didn’t have anything of value in my bags, anyway. On the other hand, his offer was really an offer of protection for me as well as my bags. If I accepted his offer, anyone who messed with me would also be messing with him. He didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive.
I smiled. “Thank you.”
Leaving my luggage where it was, I took only my purse and walked to the ticket counter. As I did, I felt a change in the way people stared at me. It may have been my imagination, but I felt that rather than watching me as a curiosity, people were now watching me the way they might idly look at some relative or acquaintance who happened to be in front of their eyes. I felt accepted.
The ticket seller told me that his telephone was only for receiving calls, not placing calls. However, he told me that the town I was calling has a different area code. I had not realized that. I went back to the payphones and dialed, using the correct area code. This time it rang, and my friend answered. I turned toward the wall so my voice wouldn’t carry to the others. I had the feeling they were no longer certain I was American, and I didn’t want to re-create a distance by letting them hear me speak English.
After talking to my friend, I hung up and sat down again.
“Success?” asked the man who’d taken charge of watching my luggage.
“Yes!” I replied. “He’s going to pick me up.”
I waited in silence for about half an hour, keeping an eye on the clock. I didn’t want to go out in that downpour any sooner than I had to. Just when I figured that it was about time to go outside, one of the clerks at another ticket counter got the attention of a passing man.
“Is that young lady taking the ten o’clock bus?” he asked.
At least half a dozen of my audience members turned their attention to him.
“I don’t know,” the man answered.
“Tell her that if she’s got a ticket on that bus, it’s leaving in a few minutes and there won’t be another one. She’d better go outside.”
We all watched as the man walked over to me. As he drew near, my protector looked at him, and at the last moment he turned to him instead of me.
“If this young lady is taking the ten o’clock bus, her bus is leaving,” he told him.
My protector turned toward me. I found this elaborate message relaying amusing, especially since I was pretty sure that everyone knew I had heard the original message as well as they had. I spoke before he had a chance to say anything.
“I guess I’ll go outside now,” I said. “Thank you.”
“It was a pleasure,” he replied. “Have a good trip.”
We shook hands, and then I went through the performance of piling my luggage on my back. I took one last look around. They were all still watching me. A couple of men nodded at me and I nodded back. Then I went out to my bus.
Due to a miscommunication, my friend went there to pick me up instead of to the local bus station. He got there between half an hour and an hour after I left. He walked up and down looking for me and felt very conspicuous under all the stares. He described me to people and asked if they had seen me. Everyone flatly denied having seen anyone of my description. I don’t know why they said they hadn’t seen me, but for some reason it pleases me.
I think that in a very conspicuous and noticeable way, I did something akin to blending in. I’ve always thought that I could “disappear” in Mexico if I wanted to, and now I think that for all practical purposes I could do it even while standing out like a sore thumb.
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