Cru Jones Society

As a workaday slave reporting to my 18^th floor office gulag everyday, I get all the privileges and headaches associated with urban employment. There’s a ton of cool places to eat, but nowhere to park. I walk past a large cast of colorful characters each morning on my way to the office, but most of them ask me for money. There’s a free shuttle taking you right through the heart of one of downtown’s main arteries housing abundant shopping, assorted and tasty restaurants, and plenty of otherwise cool shit to do, but you have to share the bus with the weirdest collection of freaky and confusing yardbirds this side of a gay pride parade in the deep South.

And that’s what we’re here to discuss today.

Denver’s 16^th Street Mall Shuttle is a convenient way to travel downtown. Anyone who’s ever finished enjoying a Herman Joseph’s at The Oxford Hotel’s historic Cruise Room and wanted to cap off their night at upscale titty bar the Diamond Cabaret knows they don’t have to trudge those 13 interminable blocks by foot, they can just plant themselves on the free shuttle and effortlessly glide all the way there. And if they’re Senor Limon, they can annoy all the other passengers by incessantly shouting, “It’s the titty bus!” over and over again the whole way there.

But that’s night time. And if you’re riding the Mall Shuttle at night, you’re probably blissfully unaware of the cavalcade of weirdos that surround you because, well, if you’re anything like Senor Limon (or a drunk Keithage on his birthday for that matter), you’re the biggest terrorist there yourself. During the daytime however, unless you’re a high functioning alcoholic, you’re stone cold sober and now painfully aware of all the various nutbars riding the bus with you.

Here’s a pretty standard snapshot of what you can expect to see on your midday bus journey through Denver’s central business district.

Homeless People

I get riding the bus if you’re homeless. Chances are excellent you’re not spending much time in the car, and who doesn’t love a nice ride even if it’s just to the end of the mall and back? Plus, it’s like a moving panhandle station where instead of you staying in one place as the world passes you by, you hop on the bus and travel back and forth where your potential benefactors come to you one after another. If you’re homeless, it doesn’t really get any better than this.

Aggressively Homeless People

By “aggressive” I don’t mean like insistent panhandlers. Anyone who gets a little too assertive in their begging for money is usually escorted off the premises relatively quickly, with gratitude from the rest of us. No, I mean people who aren’t just homeless, they’ve taken that next leap to being really fucking homeless where they stink like a bag of assholes, look even worse, and spend most of the day drooling all over the seven sweatshirts they’re wearing at once while high on meth.

You find one of these guys typically once a week completely zoned out on one of the seats near the front with his long ass stringy black hair covering his face freaking out all the ladies making a stop at Ross (We Dress for Less!) on the corner of 16^th and Champa. They look at him with a mix of befuddlement and disgust, unable to ever fully turn away, but unable to commit fully to looking also. Standing next to an aggressively homeless person will likely make you want to ralph from the stench, but the hilarious repulsion/curiosity of his onlookers is always worth the price of admission. Which is free.

Sexually Ambiguous/Androgynous Teens

There always seems to be way too many teenagers just roaming around downtown in the middle of the day. I’ve never figured out if these kids are ditching, dropouts, homeless, or just cooler than I was at that age. I doubt it’s the last one because while I made some serious fashion mistakes growing up, at least I never looked like these dorks.

What is it with kids these days? Unless girls are dressed like hookers, it’s often difficult to tell which ones are male and which ones are female. Boys wearing those queerish sweeping bangs with the stupid pumpkin pie upturn in the back with a gaudy neon blue, pink, and yellow Volcom shirt, and girls somehow look even worse. I’m not entirely sure when neon came back into fashion, but I’m almost positive it did for the worse.

If you see a group of these kids get on your bus, just get out because within 45 seconds of listening to their incessant prattle, you will have lost 15 IQ points for the next 4 hours. Guaranteed. And then you’ll be nuts on top of it trying to untangle who’s fucking who and why, and which members of this group are actually female, which ones are gay, and which ones are just dorks. You’re better off walking.

On a related note, bitching about teenagers basically means you can say goodbye to the last vestiges of your youth. So long, young Dagger! It’s been a good ride these last 27 years. To celebrate/mourn my youth’s unexpected passing, I’ll just go ahead and get married and buy a house in the next 3 months. Yeah, that seems appropriate. Hopefully there’ll be some teenagers I can yell at there.

Asian Tourists

This one is to be expected. If you live in a city with at least 750,000 people in it, there are some Asian tourists lurking somewhere all the time. Of course, how the Hard Rock Café is interesting enough to want to photograph still escapes me, but hey, if it makes you feel good, do it.

Young Indian Computer Programmers

These guys are typically very clean, with boring but nicely pressed chinos (read: Dockers), a nicely ironed shirt, poindexter glasses and a backpack. Always a backpack. What the fuck is up with the backpack? They’re impeccably polite as they enter and exit the bus, speak soft English, and stand unassuming…

That is until they see someone they know. Then the English is gone, the volume goes way up, and they’re cackling and carousing like it’s fucking Diwali. They’re glancing around at the ladies on the bus, turning towards each other and giggling like madmen at whatever inappropriate joke one of them made. It’s a crazy Jekyll and Hyde performance by our Indian brothers, and one that never ceases to make me laugh. I found some Americans in Spain at one point, and I was so happy just to be speaking English again, I think I dropped the f-bomb 10 times in about 6 seconds. I’m sure it’s the same for these guys after kowtowing to some white asshole all day in their thankless job.

A Solo Black Dude Who’s Way Too Cool for the Scene

Here’s what this guy’s wearing: A) Wife beater with oversized jeans showing off expensive boxer briefs, Lugz kicks, a stylish pair of rimless sunglasses, closely cropped B2K style facial hair, additional shirt tucked into back pocket; B) Expensive shirt from Express Men with massive collar, slacks, a shitload of cologne, complicated shoes; C) Head to toe in Enyce tracksuit with ballcap crooked to 2:00 position, court summons.

This guy gets on the bus and no matter what the weather is, keeps his sunglasses at all times. It could be so overcast even Pearl Jam finds the weather objectionable, yet this guy never removes his shades. Secondly, he never changes his expression. He’s focused on keeping that mysterious, intense, 1000-mile stare that screams to those around him, “If D’Angelo ever needs a stand-in for his next album cover, mu’fucker better call me.” This guy knows everyone’s looking at him – he wouldn’t dress that way if expected otherwise – and doesn’t so much move as he glides. He’s always alone, but he looks like he’s imminently meeting someone. This is hands down my favorite passenger because not only is he working his fucking ass off to appear cool even on the lousy bus; he fails just like everyone else when the bus stops suddenly and he loses his balance. I love that.

A Dorky Middle-Aged White Ex-Hippie

I was on the Mall Shuttle one time, and this dicknose wearing a safari hat, prescription sunglasses with a boss neckstrap, shorts with black socks, and hair like Larry David climbs on. A couple of stops later, we’re at a red light and the doors swing open. Some vagrant dude is out there playing a half-assed song on his guitar, so this hippie asshole leans his head out the door and says, “Yeah, keep the music free, man!”

This was such a misdirected hippie platitude and so pointless (especially considering he didn’t even the guy any money), me and five other guys on this particular shuttle (whom I didn’t even know) all burst out laughing. Hippie holdovers are the saddest pandas ever because not only did they lose the cultural war, their brothers in arms now live in the suburbs, drive SUVs, and write their congressmen complaining about the capital gains tax.

Deflated Young Greenpeace Activists

Oh, Greenpeace. Always hanging out on the 16^th Street Mall. Always smiling. Always holding their sad little clipboards. Never realizing they’re standing right in the thick of about 100 oil and gas offices where they’re viewed with the same favorability as incurable lepers.

Only if you were a telemarketer, would I feel more empathy for the amount of rejection you must experience day in and day out. Of course, I generally find Greenpeace to be a bunch of hypocritical thugs, so my empathy only goes so far. Regardless, after a long day of people pretending to talk on their cell phones as they approach, you’ll often see these poor, misled, idealistic souls riding hangdog on the bus. And because they’re often such young kids, I can’t help but feel a little bit bad for them. But still, no I don’t have a moment for Greenpeace. Leave me the fuck alone.

Goth/Metal Nerds

These guys will either talk about comic books, or some crazy unlistenable Norwegian death metal band that sings about boiling Jesus in oil, a role playing game involving a die with too many sides, or Japanese animation. And they will do so with a seriousness that makes most Pentagon briefings look like a Benny Hill sketch by comparison. I always wonder where these guys are coming from and where they’re going. Not that I want to join them, mind you. I just wonder if they’re heading to a minivan like I picture.

Everyone Else

This likely includes you unless you find yourself unfortunately listed above. And you’re probably just trying to get yourself some lunch, making a midday run to the post office, or checking in on a client. On a crowded bus, you and about 6 others just like you will be surrounded by the goofballs listed above.

And the truth is, it wouldn’t be the 16^th Street Mall Shuttle without them. Variety is the spice of life, and the Mall Shuttle is like the fountain beverage suicide. Hey, it may taste like crap, but you’ll tell your friends about it later.

edagger@crujonessociety.com