By Mark David Blum

For three years now, you would think Centro would have learned its lesson and provided enough busses to transport tired weary and obviously cranky old folks from the Fairgrounds back to Shoppingtown. Instead, Centro insists on running two tired old busses with two tired old drivers who in addition to failing to adhere to a schedule, think it is real funny when fights are about to break out as a result of Centro’s endless delays. I have personally spoken to managers at the scene and beyond the smile and masturbatory “thank you”, no relief has ever been forthcoming.

Usually by the time folks reach the bus terminal at the Fairgrounds, they have had it. Burnt out from a day of walking, porking, whining, and sweating, the Shoppingtown line can extend for more than two bus fulls. Downtown, Seneca Mall, Regional Market, and Camillus busses run every 3.2 seconds. Shoppingtown visitors should drive.

Last night was another Daddy Daughter night at the Fair. Dodging police helicopters and Hillary Duff fans, we slowly made our way to the Bus Stop at 10:20 p.m. While in line, my darling spotted a friend at the front of the line who had been at the concert. The two of them talked about the concert and I just stood there pretending to be interested.

Then the bus came. The line started moving.

Next thing I hear is a chorus of asshole old snotty arrogant rich white folks from the Dewitt Manlius area telling my daughter and I to “get to the back of the line”. As if we needed to cut in or were even intending on doing so. It was just the lousy impudent and childish attitude of the whiners in line that just set off the asshole in me. Just as quickly as they whined about standing in line for 45 minutes and we have to get to the back of the line, we all got to exchange words which almost ended with me bitchslapping a 50something year old man who said something very rude to my daughter.

Funny thing is that the #1 lesson to be learned about bus riding: Those who are first on the bus and those who are last on the bus all have one thing in common. Both arrive at their destinations at the same time. We could have been amongst the last persons to get on the bus but I knew from my mood and the comments heard, it would have been a long and very physical ride to the burbs.

So my daughter and I stepped aside and let that 10:30 p.m. bus from Shoppingtown filled with those human steaming piles of dog crap in every seat leave in our absence. Part of me was looking forward to seeing the bus on its side as we drove home. Instead, and thankfully, I assume even those biggest pricks at the Fair made it home safely.

Now if I can just figure out a way to keep that mindset and arrogance from infecting my own child as she has to deal with theirs in high school. The folks on that bus became the subject of discussion for the next half hour or so as we waited for the next Shoppingtown bus to limp into the station.

All worked out well though. Instead of a crabby assed bus full of jackasses, ours was a much more interesting trip. First of all, our driver was a fucking comedian as he started to pull out he says, “next stop, Camillus Mall.” I swear half the folks around me were about to have a heart attack thinking they got on the wrong bus.

Then came the moth. A big harmless moth somehow got into the bus and spent the trip flying around from front to back, dive bombing and slamming into unsuspecting girls who just loved to scream. Every time the moth would disappear, I told the kid to wait for the scream and we would know where the moth landed.