Shuttle Bus (part III) or Madam get your knife...

On a typical Tuesday morning as I approached the Phoenix-bound shuttle, which had stopped to pick up passengers at the Ina Road Circle-K (a roadside convenience store and gas station), I noticed one of the seated passengers disembark to head into the ladies' room. This was odd given that she had arrived from another pick-up point a mere 15 minutes away. I took the only seat remaining, directly behind the missing passenger, and we all awaited her return before taking off for Sky Harbor Airport.

When she re-entered the van, I noticed that she was quite tall and dressed in a conservative mien .. she wore a high-buttoned striped blouse, a pleated skirt falling below the knees and practical pumps, as well as paste pearl earrings. Her face, which was pale and somewhat pocked, was covered in a thick layer of pancake.

The moment we pulled away from the Circle-K, she began figeting in her seat, twisting her entire torso to face away from the other passengers. At times she would press her face up to the plate glass window, staring at the passing fields and occasional cows with disturbed fascination. But she never held a position for very long. I realized -- she was a changeling, perhaps someone who had recently transformed herself from a man into a woman and was as yet uncomfortable in her skin. Perhaps this was her first adventure as her new person.

After 10 minutes or so, she retrieved an old-fashioned cassette player from her large straw handbag, as well as a small microphone attached by a cord. She pressed a button and in a scratchy and deep monotone proceeded to intone into the microphone: "It is 10.32 and I have boarded a bus headed for Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix." She then rewound the tape and played back her recitation, loudly enough for all to hear. A few minutes passed and she again held up the microphone. This time her voice emerged a few notes higher: "It is 10.38 and I have boarded the Arizona Shuttle Van Service to Sky Harbor Airport. We are now driving northbound on I-10". Again she rewound the tape and played the new recording out loud. The voices around us dimmed and then picked up again as the other passengers made efforts to ignore the proceedings.Another few minutes passed and she she began her recital again: "It is now 10.43 a.m. and I am seated on the Shuttle Bus headed towards Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix along Interstate 10." This time her voice, a full octave higher, cackled as if choked. Not daunted, she again replayed the tape.

And so the trip proceeded with these strange periodic interruptions. And although she chose to share her new intonations, she at no time would make eye contact with any of the surrounding passengers. Her agitation likewise did not cease, as in between the recordings she would reach into her handbag retrieving such items as a makeup compact, package of tissues, address book and hold them to the light in the window as if beholding their like for the very first time.

I began to feel nervous, regretting my choice of seat. I had a sudden image of her paranoia flaring up to excessive proportions and her suddenly feeling required to grab a knife and stab something -- and for a moment and with no provocation I imagined that something would be me.

As it turns out, I wasn't too far off the mark, for as we reached the perimeters of Phoenix and espied our first butte, she did in fact pull out a switchblade with an 8 or 9 inch blade, which she used to go through the elaborate motions of slicing open a bag of potato chips. I looked in panic at the fellow seated next to me, who shruggged his shoulders and merely laughed. Having lived in NYC for 20 years, I did not take the matter lightly. I tried to remember Arizona's laws regarding the carrying of weapons -- for example, at one time it was okay if it was visible (as a gun in a holster) but that had recently been changed. Could I in fact protest her display of the knife? And if I did wouldn't she then be truly tempted to strike out and use it?

I tried to imagine her motivations. Her visible upset throughout the trip did not indicate a stable or happy frame of mind. I thought to myself -- on some level she sees us all as enemies, as people who despise her or might threaten her in some way. In my mind, I could somehow hear her say (in that same high claustrophobic voice last used) "But a girl must have protection in this world."

When the shuttle finally pulled up to the airport curb, I quickly disembarked.