25 May 2010, approximately 4:45pm
Grant Street at Oliver Avenue
I was on my bike and stopped at the light when, in the rear view mirror mounted on my helmet, I saw a Port Authority bus approaching. I can't say what it was about it but my subconscious indicated to me that I would be safer taking the whole lane rather than sticking close to the curb so, when the light changed, I proceeded through the intersection in the center of the lane.
The bus passed me at a high rate of speed and fairly close while straddling the centerline. I looked down at my speedometer and noted that I was traveling 17 miles per hour as the buss pulled in front of me, back into the right lane.
The bus was stopped at the light at Fourth Avenue when, now in the left lane because I would be turning left onto First Avenue after crossing the Boulevard of the Allies, I came up beside him. I looked at the driver to judge his manner before talking to him. Seeing me looking at him he glared back and, when I did not turn away, he leaned towards the window:
"Is there something you want to say to me?"
"Yes. You could have given me a little more space back there."
"You could get off the fucking road!"
"I have every right to be on the road."
I don't recall exactly what he said after that but I do recall that he threw in another "fucking" for good measure."
"I was traveling at the prevailing speed of traffic."
I moved towards the front of the bus so that I could see the number there.
"Are you trying to block me?"
"No. I'm trying to see the bus number."
"If you block me I will fucking run you over!"
I could see the number on his shirt and, realizing I would not be able to remember that, the bus number and the route identifier, decided to focus on the number that identified him specifically.
"9693. Is that your number?"
"Get the fuck out of my way! I'll fucking run you over!"
"I'm just making sure I have your number right. 9693. Is that really your shirt?"
"Fuck you!"
"9693."
I was moving back as the light turned because I was absolutely certain that he would, in fact, run me over given the opportunity"
"Fuck you!"
"9693."
"Faggot!"
"9693."
I proceeded across the Boulevard of the Allies while he turned right. I turned onto First Avenue, onto the sidewalk near the bike racks there and got off my bike. After a few minutes I was able to controll the shaking in my hands an legs enough to dial 911.
I informed the 911 operator of what had happened and was then connected to the Port Authority police. I informed them what had happened. While doing so, I heard someone laughing. I can't be sure whether it was officer taking my statement or someone in the background, but it seemed related. I asked the officer if he thought something about what I was saying was funny. He said no but offered no explanation as to what the laughter was really about if not at my expense.
I was put on hold for quite a while before being put in touch with the Port Authority's customer service. I explained yet again and received the institutionally required apology. (Service Report 10-09399)
Driver 9693 had passed me somewhat closely but not so closely as to have me fear for my safety. It was not terribly dangerous, merely inconsiderate and I thought, considering he was a professional driver in the service of public transportation, it was appropriate to inform him of this. I expected a weak, disinterested "sorry" or to be ignored altogether. If his window were closed I might have let it go rather than tap on the window to pursue the matter, leaving my rebuke as merely a dirty look.
But as soon as Driver 9693 opened his mouth I could tell he was aggressive, belligerent and that when he had passed me he wasn't being merely inconsiderate but was being intentionally hostile. He was a threat to all other road users, bicyclists and cars, and was being a risk to the safety of his passengers. I was lucky he had given me as much room as he did. Then, when I dared to even look at him, he verbally and physically threatened me with a massive bus weighing over 20 tons.
This is in no way acceptable.
