Time Machine post: The evolution of Mistah Bus Drivah

Sometimes identities happen when you least expect them.

As I was transitioning out of my career as a sports reporter for Napa Valley Publishing,
I trained and subsequently received my Class B driver’s license in October 2012. Four
months later, I landed a part-time bus driving job at the Springs of Napa, which is an
independent living facility geared toward senior citizens in Napa, CA.

In a previous blog entry from last year, I shared what that experience was like:

http://vincedadamo.blogspot.com/2017/04/time-machine-two-years-of-driving.html

Well, there is another story within a story. One of the residents, Eileen, formed a group
called the “Chinese Lunch Bunch.” I have no idea how long the group had been formed
before I was hired but about a dozen or so (plus or minus a few) would have an outing
once a week at a restaurant called Mini Garden, which was a locally owned Chinese
restaurant in Napa. Since I chauffeured the group to the establishment, Eileen always
invited me to join them. The Springs management encouraged me to do so. Eileen also
encouraged me to do so. Well, I needed no more convincing. They were happy to be
joined by a 40-year old. To them, I was like a surrogate grandson joining them for lunch.

The group had its regulars and occasional members. The restaurant owner, Ava, would
go around the table to take everyone’s order and adeptly putting them on separate checks.
More often than not, one of the residents would offer to pick up my bill. Goodness knows,
I was not going to decline that generous act.

Ava knew everyone by name: Eileen, Dee, Glenn, Bill, Ethelyne, Phyliss, Kathy, Sally, Nancy,
Joyce, etc. Ava would reach me and without knowing my name, she would say, “Mistah Bus
Drivah!” I must be honest, if she pronounced it as “Mister Bus Driver,” I would have said, “Uh,
honey, my name is Vince.” However, there is something hilarious about broken English. After
Ava began regularly referring to me as “Mistah Bus Drivah” I never wore my name employee
tag inside the restaurant. She kept calling me “Mistah Bus Drivah!”

I posted the story on Facebook and even changed my social media name. Whether I was
shopping at the store or covering a game, I would have people say “Mistah Bus Drivah!”
from afar.

As time went on, I introduced my wife, Jackie, to the establishment one year on her birthday.
We actually had the chance to enjoy a kid-free evening. So we walked into the restaurant,
Ava uttered, “Hello, Mistah Bus Drivah!” Without skipping a beat, I reply, “This is my wife, Mrs.
Bus Drivah!” She chuckles, referring to our kids, “Welcome, Mrs. Bus Drivah! Where’s the
little Bus Drivahs!”

From time-to-time, we would order meals to go. I would call to place the order. Ava would
ask, “Can I have name?” Without even batting an eye, I would say, “This is Mistah Bus
Drivah!” She would chuckle and say, “Oh it’s you Mistah Bus Drivah!” I would usually bring
one of my kids with me to pick up the order. If I brought my son, Tommy, she would say,
“Oh, it’s Mistah Bus Drivah and Little Mistah Bus Drivah Junyah!” If I brought one of my
daughters, Juliette or Danielle, she would say, “Oh it’s Mistah Bus Drivah and Little Miss
Bus Drivah!”

Though I no longer drive buses and Mini Garden has changed ownership, the identity of
Mistah Bus Drivah seems like another lifetime ago. However, it is a time in my life I still
remember fondly. It’s a reminder of how as a first-generation American I am all in favor of
learning English, I’ll never frown on broken English as long as the person makes the effort.
Plus, there is a certain humorous side of broken English.

Let’s be honest, “Mistah Bus Drivah” sounds much more hip than “Mister Bus Driver.”