There are a million people inside, outside, and around Atlanta bus station. After disembarking the bus, folks make their way to the side of the bus where the doors to our luggage have been opened. The driver is at the entrance to the bus acting busy with directing passengers off the bus? Meanwhile, folks are getting busy unloading their own luggage because noone has showed up. These are mostly older women with too many bags. They take control because ain't nobody got time to be waiting around to guess about if somebody else is gonna help you or not. That passengers are now in charge of fetching their stowed baggage is a new greyhound policy, perhaps. Only in Atlanta. Atlanta bus station is a zoo, a coven, a church. Passengers interpret for one another as bus station staff talk louder to make their point. The very black Puerto Rican man standing next to me is talking energetically on the phone in Spanish about la gua gua. Dude is pissed. Everyone has a story to tell. About how they hate the station in Atlanta because it's lawless. About Atlanta to Missouri vs to Philadelphia. About Black families and that one drunk uncle everybody has. About the stressed out mom over there yelling at the kid to shut up. About the last time they took the greyhound here in Atlanta in 2009 and vowed to never do it again. Yet here we all are. Standing close. Feeling and watching each other's rhythms. Sharing juice and spectacle. Greyhound authorities seem to have developed a habit of yelling at folk. "Pay attention and don't miss your bus!" It's paradise. You can even pay an extra $5 for priority boarding. These suckas is really on some shit. Years ago I bought a nickel bag of dirt from a young bul talkin weed out right out there in front the station. I was a youngin, it was like 2am, and i ain't realize the hustle til bul was long gone. Fun times. My layover then, as it is today, was about four hours. Only in Atlanta. There's an old black man asking me where is the restroom. I point while saying "over there" as he moves in a complete circle staying in the same place. I realize that maybe he can't see well so I ask him. "Can you see?" Still standing very close to me, he says quietly "No. Not really." Two brothas I had been chatting with just minutes before were moving away in the direction of their bus and I asked them to help direct him. My luggage is with me and my phone is charging at the charging station. I don't want to leave it. Preoccupied with missing their bus, they walk with him a few feet and let him go. I look up and see that he is still struggling so I grab my phone and leave the bag. I put my hand on his shoulder and we walk the rest of the way to the restroom. At the doorway I leave him after getting the nod from another man who then takes over as we both see him almost walk into the trash can at the center of the entrance to the bathroom. He good. There are enough of us here who give a fuck. There are arcade machines, those toy grabbing games, a snack shop, and so many different styles of people, mostly black and brown folks. I'm glad to see that payphones are still in use here. I love people.
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