“Alumni”

The other day (Wednesday, October 15, 2008) was a quarterly meeting at the dreaded “Alumni,” retirees of Local 282 of the Amalgamated Transit Union (“What’s ‘ah-two?’”), the bus-union at Regional Transit Service in Rochester, NY.
A pack of lazy, no-good, no-account, freeloading do-nothings like me who never actually did anything except: -a) jaw with passengers (especially floozies); -b) keep nine tons of unstable junk between the lines in all kinds of weather; -c) avoid T-boning Granny when she suddenly cut us off out of a mall parking-lot (“Oh look, Dora. A bus. PULL OUT! PULL OUT!”); and -d) avoid getting shot.
The “Alumni” is different from the “15/25-Year Club;” the name of which I never understood.
I suppose it was the 25-Year Club at first; then they changed it to allow 15-year employees.
The 15/25-Year Club was all employees of Transit, including management. 15/25-Year Club functions had become management-union donnybrooks.
The “Alumni” was a response to management running roughshod over the 15/25-Year Club.
“Just about all these people are ex bus-drivers,” the Alumni Vice-Prez said to two people from BJ’s. (The meeting was to allow BJ’s Club to give a presentation, and solicit memberships, —Only we don’t buy 89 bazilyun pounds of bulk rice.)
“The only guy that isn’t was a bus-mechanic,” the Veep said.
Every Alumni gathering leaves me surprised at how much better shape I’m in compared to everyone else.
I suppose it’s because I run, and the way I eat.
“I’ll take a side-order of pancakes please, with plenty of butter too. And real butter, Missy; not margarine,” someone said.
That guy then soaked his pancakes with gallons of syrup.
All these people had diabetes; just about everyone there does but me.
Most weigh over 200 pounds; many flaccidly over 300.
And few look like they do any walking at all.
A girl was hobbling with a cane.
The guy next to me’s butt was so wide he nearly sat on me: “Excuse me! I haven’t seen it in years.”
My old friend Gary Colvin was sitting across from me, and after glomming his pancakes, sausage, two eggs-sunny-side-up, toast with real butter, and greasy hash-browns slathered in thick brown gravy........
.....furtively removed a small napkin from his pocket revealing 20 pills.
“Good grief, Gary,” I said. “I sure am glad I ain’t takin’ that many.”
“Actually it’s only four prescriptions,” he said. “The rest are all vitamin supplements.”
“The prescriptions are Avodart®, Vitorin® for cholesterol, a blood-pressure medication,....” and I forget the other — perhaps Insulin.
“Well, four prescriptions ain’t that bad,” I said. “I only take one; and I stopped the calcium-blocker and the cholesterol medication because my neurologist thought they might be causing my ‘episodes.’”
“The Vitorin and blood-pressure med are to offset Insulin supplements. Diabetes poisons your liver. Tell ‘im, Tony.” he said.
“My Physical-Therapist said the way to control both was get back in shape,” I said. “So I did, and lost about 25 pounds.”
“Smokestack Merkel trotted out the new Alumni web-page.
“That’s great, Jerry,” someone said. “Now all I need is a computer.”
“Looks like it was made with one of them web-page templates,” my wife observed. “They gotta turn down that music!”
The worst news was that my old friend Art Dana, the ex-driver with Parkinson’s, and not there, had to sell his fabulous Model-A hot-rod, because he couldn’t see to finish it.
He apparently bought a ‘49 Ford custom; a turn-key he doesn’t have to finish.
Dana was at his eye-doctor. I guess he has cataracts.

RE: “Dreaded......” —My siblings are all flagrantly anti-union.

For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, N.Y. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that.

“What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Local 282 of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union) button.

“Lazy, no-good, no-account, freeloading do-nothings.....” is something my all-knowing, blowhard brother-from-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, says to put down my past career as a bus-driver.

The average bus, at that time, weighed nine tons. Most of our buses were worn out; junk. The rear-tires were often bald.

“Gary Colvin” is a retired bus-driver who started about a year after me. “Art Dana” is another retired bus-driver who started about a year-or-two before me. “Tony” is another.

RE: “Episodes.....” Two+ years ago I was experiencing dizzy-spells (or whatever), but not any more. They’re why I retired from the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger Newspaper, which was after the stroke. (I worked at the Messenger almost 10 years — best job I ever had; much better than Transit.)

RE: “Smokestack Merkel” (Girard [Jerry] Merkel — “MER-kul”)...... —We call him “Smokestack” because he smokes three packs of cigarettes a day.

My wife of 40+ years is “Linda.” She previously was a computer-programmer before retirement.

Dana had a Model-A Ford roadster hot-rod he was building. He’s an old hot-rodder; which explains the 1949 Ford custom.

“Turn-key” means the car is already done and operable.