Oh Micro, I bet you say that to all the girls

This is a post I've been meaning to write for a while now. It relates to the absolutely bizarre habit that Chilean buses have of flirting with you.

At the moment I am busing about quite a bit, having acquired work with an institute based out of Viña. So. I head down my hill to the nearest bus stop, which is not actually a stop so much as an area where buses like to hang out without official authorization. I would say one out of every five buses heads to Viña. It is inevitably the fifth bus.

So I stand on the corner, squinting at each bus as it approaches, trying to read the five and a half million signs hanging in the windows and the windshield that give vague clues as to the route. Aduana. Limache. Cemeterio. Etc. The bus notices that it has caught my attention. It flashes its lights--hey there, little lady, I see you too. It slows down to a saunter and pulls up casually to the curb. The door slides open. At this point I have determined that this is not the bus I need, and so I am gazing pointedly off down the road.

The micro, though, knows all about the tricks that women play. I may be saying no, but surely I'm thinking yes. Who wouldn't want to go to Pedro Montt? It's a lovely avenue. The micro gives a little beep to let me know it's still interested despite my cold attitude. It pulls forward a couple inches, playing hard to get, but slides to a stop again when it realizes that manipulation isn't helping. A little more insistently now, it beeps its horn. I continue to ignore it--sorry, buddy, thought you were someone else. After lingering for a few minutes, the micro finally goes on its sad way, rejected.

This is not an every-once-in-a-while occurence. This is standard procedure. Various micros are constantly trying to convince me that I want to go to Concon, or Playa Ancha, or Aduana. This is odd, but when it becomes irritating is when you have actually boarded the bus of your choice. You settle into your seat, ready to be whisked off to the destinations promised by the colorful signs, but there will be no whisking. Why? Because your micro, unfaithful rake that it is, is going to have to stop and flirt several times per street.

The other night I was unfortunate enough to board what I am going to go ahead and call out as the Most Flirtatious Bus in Valparaíso, also known as the Worst Bus in Valparaíso. We stopped every other block to try to seduce some poor abuela. The method actually seemed to work, though, because by the time I got to my stop the bus was packed to such a capacity that I was concerned about the oxygen supply. Of course my half hour bus ride took close to an hour, but who's counting. Every time someone got on I wanted to shout and wave my arms: "Don't do it! You'll never get home! You will die on this bus before you make it out of the center!"

Also last week, I entered a bus that was so crowded that the bus driver instructed me to sit on the dashboard. Instructed, not asked. Otherwise, you see, I would have been standing in a position which would have prevented the door from opening to admit yet more passengers. So I wedged myself in in front of the ticket tray and kind of braced myself against the windshield and the plastic overhead. I was a bit concerned about the idea of a bus crash. More so, however, I was concerned that during one of the 500kph turns I would be thrown sideways into the steering wheel and actually cause a bus crash myself. Headline: Suicidal Gringa Takes Possession of City Bus.

All of this because the micros just cannot control themselves. Flirts.