TIME: THE PRESENT
SETTING: A METRO BUS
CHARACTERS:
ALAN - (17)
ROBERT - (50's)
SYLVIA - (40's)
STAGE DIRECTIONS:
ALAN is sitting on a metro bus in a front-facing double-seat next to the window. ROBERT enters and sits next to ALAN on the aisle side of the seat. They mime the bus starting: their heads rock back slightly in unison.
ROBERT
I've never taken this bus before...Do you know how long it takes to get to Eighty-ninth Street?
ALAN
That depends...Half-an-hour probably. I get off at Sixty-second, and it usually takes at least twenty minutes to get there.
ROBERT
I'm new here. I'm going to have dinner at a friend's house.
ALAN
Uh-huh.
(ALAN IS LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW. THE BUS STOPS. THEIR UPPER BODIES ROCK FORWARD IN UNISON.)
ROBERT
I was lucky to get a seat for such a long ride. It looks like they're filling up fast.
ALAN
Yeah. You can always get a seat down at Eighth Street, but by Fourteenth they're all filled up.
(SYLVIA ENTERS CARRYING A SHOPPING BAG. SHE LOOKS AROUND FOR AN EMPTY SEAT. SHE CAN'T FIND ONE, SO SHE STANDS NEXT TO ROBERT. THEY MIME THE BUS STARTING. SYLVIA HOLDS ONTO THE SEAT BAR OR A POLE. SHE SHIFTS HER WEIGHT. WHENEVER THE STAGE DIRECTION "THE BUS STOPS" OR "THE BUS STARTS" IS GIVEN, ALL MIME APPROPRIATELY. SYLVIA TAKES A CELLULAR PHONE FROM HER SHOPPING BAG AND PUNCHES IN A NUMBER.)
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
Hello? Tiffany?...It's Sylvia. I'm on the bus. We're still downtown but heading home. It's standing room only. There's a perfectly healthy-looking boy here. A teenager. Sitting by the window. Pretending to ignore me.
(WHEN ALAN REALIZES THAT SYLVIA IS TALKING ABOUT HIM, HE STARES AT HER IN DISBELIEF. THEN WITH A FLOURISH -- AS THOUGH TO SAY "TWO CAN PLAY THIS GAME" -- HE TAKES A PHONE FROM HIS BOOKBAG, PUNCHES IN A SEVEN-DIGIT NUMBER, CHECKS IT, AND THEN PUSHES THE "SEND" BUTTON.)
ALAN (TO PHONE)
Ernie, it's Alan. You won't believe it! Some woman is standing right next to me talking on a cell phone and complaining about me.
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
He knows I'm right here, but he hasn't offered me his seat.
ALAN (TO PHONE)
Yeah, right now, on the bus. She's all pissed, 'cause I didn't give her my seat. Can you imagine that?
(THE BUS STOPS.)
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
Right, I'm calling you from the bus. Of course he can hear me. He's talking about me on HIS phone.
ALAN (TO PHONE)
Hey, Ernie! Two blondes in a convertible at Sixteenth.
(ROBERT TRIES TO LOOK OUT THE WINDOW.)
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
There's an older gentleman sitting next to him, but I doubt that they're together.
(ROBERT SHAKES HIS HEAD VIGOROUSLY.)
ROBERT
No, indeed!
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
No, I thought not. He looks too distinguished to have any connection with this low-life adolescent by the window.
ALAN (TO PHONE)
Serious eye contact, Ernie... Those blondes are both waving to me.
(ROBERT TRIES TO LOOK OUT THE WINDOW. THE BUS STARTS.)
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
No, Tiffany, he's not elderly, but he's older than I am. No, I don't expect older men to give their seats to younger women, but I DO expect healthy teenage boys to give their seats to weary adults. (PAUSE) Yes, either sex, but especially women.
ALAN (TO PHONE)
Yeah, she's still here. Running her mouth.
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
I've been working all day, and I'm feeling beat to garbage. I had to do some grocery shopping before catching this bus, and my feet ache. My varicose veins are throbbing. I may pass out any minute. But what does he care?
ALAN (TO PHONE)
Guilt trip time, Ernie. With feet as big and flat as hers, you'd think she wouldn't mind standing. (PAUSE) Right! Those feet were made for standing! Besides I need to sit by the window, so I can scope the scene.
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
I don't know, Tiffany. How can you tell? He's drooling. Is that a sign?
(THE BUS STOPS.)
ALAN (TO PHONE)
Yeah, Yeah. You know the type. Only this one's worse.
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
These kids now a days! No discipline at all.
ALAN (TO PHONE)
She's blaming our whole generation now.
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
No consideration for others. Not for women. Not for older people.
ALAN (TO PHONE)(SARCASTIC)
I'm going to cry, Ernie. It's all so sad.
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
Yes, Tiffany, I know that some kids still have good manners, but not this one!
(THE BUS STARTS.)
ALAN (TO PHONE)
No way, Ernie. We stopped at Eighteenth, and the babes in the convertible kept going.
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
You know...I really feel sorry for him. It's his mother I blame for his lack of manners.
ALAN (TO PHONE)
Now I have no manners, and it's all my mother's fault.
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
I don't think anybody ever taught him how to behave.
ALAN (TO PHONE)
Yeah, she sounds neurotic to me. (PAUSE) PMS? Probably. Hey, maybe it's menopause!
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
I'm so angry! Smoke must be pouring out of my ears.
ALAN (TO PHONE)
She's getting pretty worked up, Ernie.
SYLVIA (TO PHONE)
It's like a bad dream. A nightmare! "The Bus ride from Hell."
(THE BUS STOPS.)
ALAN (TO PHONE)
She could go ballistic. If the phone goes dead, call nine-one-one right away. We're at Twentieth.
(ROBERT GETS UP AND STEPS INTO THE AISLE.)
ROBERT
Here, Madam. Please take my seat.
SYLVIA
Thank you, Sir. You're a real gentleman.
(ROBERT EDGES AWAY, WALKING SIDEWAYS DOWN THE AISLE. ALAN TURNS TO WATCH ROBERT. SYLVIA SITS DOWN. THE BUS STARTS. ALAN AND SYLVIA STARE COLDLY AT EACH OTHER FOR FIVE SECONDS. SLOWLY THEY BOTH SMILE.)
ALAN
See, Mom! It worked! Now we get to sit together all the way home.
END
