Culture shock and entitlement

I noticed culture shock in small ways throughout my first weeks back in Texas -- like when I wiggled my pointer finger to say "yes" or searched for the nearest taco stand after a hard day. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of re assimilating into American culture, though, until I started taking the school shuttle to campus. Have you ever noticed how strange public transportation is in the U.S.? How predictable and safe?

We have bus stops, and the bus stops at them. It will not stop at every corner. It will not stop at either side of the intersection. And it will not stop in the middle lane. It stops at the bus stops. And I've never seen a bus stop sign next to a sign that tells me I can't board, like this one in Puebla.



The buses are frequent and predictable here. I have never waited 20 or 30 minutes for a bus. Neither have I seen three of the same buses racing each other and ignoring all the people gesturing for rides.

The buses wait for passengers. On my first day riding the bus in Denton, I saw a kid walking up as the bus was getting ready to depart. He wasn't running or waving his arms, and his face didn't wear the expression of panic I always felt when I was trying to persuade a stopped bus to wait for me. He looked sure of the fact that he would be getting a ride, like he was entitled to it. Such an American.

The buses stop for passengers. They really stop. I was standing at the bus stop the other morning with about half a dozen other people. As the bus pulled up, I walked right up to the edge of the curb. No one else budged. Then, once the bus had stopped and rocked back, the people started moving. Such a waste of time.

The rock back motion is important, I'm realizing. Inside the bus, no one stands up until it has rocked back. In Puebla, I don't think the bus ever stopped long enough to rock back. When boarding the bus, I learned to grab the handles before stepping in, because as soon as one foot was in the bus, the driver was off. Dismounting was a trickier feat, requiring plenty of planning and courage as I prepared several blocks in advance for my heroic leap to the pavement below as the bus briefly slowed down.

The buses are quiet and ... boring. Where's the blaring 90's music that made me feel like I was on the roller rink? Where are the psychedelic pictures of Jesus? Where are the crucifixes and horses' hooves hanging from the rear view mirror? Passengers never hang out of doors when the buses get crowded. The buses always go the speed limit. I never fear for my life.

Even after several weeks of riding the bus here in Denton, I haven't gotten used to it. I still mutter under my breath that we are wasting time when passengers take so long to dismount. I still inch forward to the curb when I see my bus approaching. And I still wonder why these Americans feel entitled to a safe, quiet ride on the bus.