Waiting for the Bus in Memphis

I woke up on Tuesday and decided I would take the bus across town. I had to plan carefully because my friend who drives everywhere was totally against my idea.

This is not New York. You don’t need to take the bus, I will drive you.

I know, but when you take the bus, you see a different side of the city!

We went back and forth and then I stopped talking about it.

I left her place to take the bus after she had went to work.

The bus stop did not have bus numbers so I  had to plan my trip to a tee: the time, the address and which stop to get off at. However, it did not work out as planned and in the end, I did not really know what bus I was waiting for. The only source of information that was found at the stop was the phone number to call the base, MATA, 910-523-8134, which I did call. But only got a recording.

Needless to say, the bus never came. NEVER. And, it started raining. I was standing at a bus stop without an umbrella nor a shelter.

What came were suspicious looking men driving their vehicles who offered to drive me. I had to say no or just act like I didn’t see them. And if they didn’t offer me a ride, they stared at me too long. While standing there I felt a feeling of embarrassment, like I was suppose to own a car. I felt really bad. A feeling I never feel in New York. I notice no one else was waiting for the bus. As a matter of fact, I looked around and saw very few people on the street (maybe because of the rain).

I made sure to make eye contact with very few people because every time I did, I felt humiliated. I wonder if people who can’t afford cars feel this way in Memphis? Yet, no one made fun of me or berated me. They just looked at me.

So, I started walking. I walked to the next stop and the next stop until I gave in and called my friend. I got to see another side of Memphis but I still want to take the city bus.

E. Massey’s Barbershop

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I walked into E. Massey’s Barber shop because I needed change for the bus and met some of the finest brothers with the cutest accents. Todd, Mike, Holiday and the customer, Lonney.

It was inspiring to see that they were all African American men because in New York where I am from, the barber shops are usually owned by latino brothers.

I never have a reason to walk into barber shops and tend to think it’s more of a man’s world, so I really did try to avoid going into Massey’s but the Trophy shop next door did not have change.

When I entered, I felt kind of self-conscience because I was the only female in there but they made me feel like I was welcomed.  I can see why some New Yorkers glorify this southern mentality.

Hi, do you have change for 5 dollars?

Yes, I do.

And after that, change for a dollar? I need change for the bus.

Oh, I don’t have change for a dollar but if you use the vending machine, you can get change.

Okay, thanks!

You a photographer?

Yes. Can I take your photo?

Sure, I don’t care.

Do y’all care?

No.

I didn’t talk much because listening to them was a joy. The way all their words kind of slurred into each other, yet was separate,  was fascinating.  As they kept talking one of them asked:

You need a car?

No, I just want to take the bus.

You don’t drive?

No.

Where you from?

New York.

Oh, that’s where I’m from!…

 

I started taking photos of them. Then one of them took out their phone and begin to photograph me. In all my years of taking photos of people, this never happened, so it caught me off guard. It made me smile.

When I was leaving one of them, Mike, walked me out the door and made sure I was going in the right direction.