D.O.P.-T.

Temperatures in the high 90s and 100s all over the valley. The housemate had to come home early from work after fumes suggested a spontaneous chemical fire in her work building. I staggered to the bus stop on inadequate sleep for my thrice accursed 6th work shift, to find a small crowd already waiting for the bus; I'm starting to suspect they changed the schedule again and cut out a bus. However, a 522 hove into view, closely followed by a 22, so I flagged down the latter to avoid the walk back from the next express stop. It turned out to be the propaganda bus that the VTA has clad in red advertising with fake graffiti extolling the virtues of public transit. First we had to wait for the wheelchair passenger to get off. Then, inside it looked like a mix of bus and light-rail vehicle: small, hard seats and not many of them, some facing backwards, a big luggage corral. We perched and the driver set off into the horrendous traffic on El Camino. And swept straight past the crowd at the next bus stop. Frantic bell-ringing got him to stop at the next stop - sort of. One person was able to get off and then he slammed the rear doors and set off again, while the other passenger who had been about to get off and I yelled "Back door!" increasingly peremptorily. So he stopped at the next light pole. And continued skipping stops. I was starting to think he hadn't been told what VTA stops look like. He made an announcement - it was loud but of course I didn't understand a word. Stop-skipping continued. Maybe someone in the angry crowd had caused him to receive a message to return to headquarters to be chewed out? I got ready to describe my stop, but fortunately he noticed it in time after I dinged the bell.