ROAD WARRIORS
By Bruce McDonald

Because I am a survivor, I can share this tale with you. Immanent death and constant danger is now a part of my daily life. Before I became ensnared in this hostile environment, I had no need for, or belief in, Divine Intervention, but events can daunt the stoutest of hearts. Now my nerves are shot and I know that I’d be an easy mark for any zealot or missionary who would offer the comfort of assured life after death. The faith or denomination is not going to matter. I just want to be SAVED.

Who is the enemy and from what do I want to be saved? If you’re a stranger in town, this may seem a fair question, but if you’re actually living in Puerto Vallarta, in Mexico, you’d have to be bloody daft not to know that the lives of ordinary folk are under constant threat from the Public Bus Transport System.
Those of you who are of an age, may recall a song made famous by the likes of Bing Crosby and Frankie Lane called “Ghost Riders in the Sky.” You may think this is about old cowpokes, but I know it’s really about deceased passengers and deceased buses of the Public Transport System of Puerto Vallarta. There’s no hope left for those once fare-paying passengers. They’re doomed ... But the on-going terror is that some of these deceased buses are still plying the cobblestone streets, bumping and jerking along and luring unwitting souls to a ride to Hell as they hang on grimly for dear life to the seat in front.

The bus drivers, I am convinced, do not see themselves in this mundane role as such. These hombres see themselves as nothing less than Road Warriors. The nicety of concern for the comfort of their passengers is not on their list of priorities. How could it ever be so? I have heard, that in their introductory training session, new drivers are presented with a video featuring Mel Gibson in “Battle Truck!” Even amongst themselves, they’re a quarrelsome lot. Every other bus driver is seen as a potential enemy who must be humiliated at all costs. Battle horns are sounded, gears are ground, engines are revved to a high crescendo and dense black diesel fumes are cast in their wake as they race along to the next random passenger set down/pick up point.
If you think you may be able to alight with some dignity forget it! The back doors will bang open while the bus is still at high speed, you’ll be panic-stricken as you desperately try to push past people who will not shift. But, thank God, the brakes are slammed on and you are hurled to the back anyway; and you tumble out into the gutter with the rest of the escaping tide of humanity. You’ll notice he’s still two feet out from the curb. This is not bad driving, but merely practice for the rainy season when he knows you’ll be stepping out into six inches of water. Another purpose is served here–those who are anxiously trying to crowd on now have to somehow hoist themselves up two feet in order to reach the first step. Have you ever wondered why young ladies here wear shorts? Definitely not for the reasons you may have thought. It’s about practicality; imagine trying to step up two feet in a tight knee-length skirt! They know who the enemy is.

And, oh, what delight when a mother and child with three bags of shopping are the last to get on! Mom gets one foot onto the step and then the bus takes off! There’s a flurry of coins, baby and parcels, while every one lurches back, and the race is on again.

The whole system works in an insidious way. Have you ever noticed how the other passengers assert their independence? I bet you have! Whenever possible they sit on the aisle seat (all lined up like peas in a pod) and refuse to make room for you by sliding over next to the widow. They all look stoically ahead as if you are not there! But, this is nothing personal. Through careful observation, I can assure you that all fellow passengers are treated with equal disdain, Not only do you have to ask to be allowed to get by, but you have to climb over their knees, politely try to keep your arse out of their face, hang on to the back of the seat in front as the bus goes even faster, avoid banging your shopping bags on the heads of those in the next row, and flop down in the seat, giving thanks that at least this time you avoided putting your back out. If you want to be near the top of the pecking order, get yourself an aisle seat!

Meanwhile, the Road Warrior charges on totally oblivious to everything other than asserting his supremacy over his captives (known in other parts of the world as passengers), intimidating all other vehicular traffic, terrifying pedestrians, and ignoring all road signs. Surrounded by his icons, assorted charms and decorations, he hurtles on towards the perceived enemy. Passengers, with good reason, cross themselves on passing every church and the buses’ illuminated portrait of the Blessed Virgin of Guadalupe flashes on and off throughout the journey. With her divine protection, I achieve another victory over the Puerto Vallarta Public Transport System and arrive safely at my bus stop.

I know that yet again, I have defeated mine enemy! Or is it that Don Quixote is alive and well and living in Puerto Vallarta?