"Mr. President, I feel that I have blood on my hands."

Dir. Christopher Nolan
180m9s.
Synopsis: An exploration of J. Robert Oppenheimer's evolving feelings on atomic energy.
Trailer.

I had to go and see it again, a third time, a final time, surrender once again to its hypnotic rhythms of music and dialogue. It is a thing you do alone, not obsessively but passionately, like a warmer version of the museum patron described at the beginning of Delillo’s Point Omega.

1. About Everything

Other people will write about the film's topical relevance, how good the acting is, or the stupendous construction of that sequence. But none of those are why I had to go three times.

Oppenheimer begins and ends with a man, at two different points in his life, watching raindrops fall into water. In between those two moments it somehow manages, despite being almost exclusively a series of scenes of mostly men in suits talking, during a distinct time period, following an exact narrative… to be a film about everything. In its specificity it becomes universal.

What does it mean to live with ourselves, in this world? 

Following a prologue hinting at the consequences to come, we begin with the subjective interior. The intoxicating rhythms of new possibilities, discovery, the excitement of innovation and youth in the 1920s. This leads to collaboration, competition; ideas, and degrees of allegiance to those ideas; to science, invention for its own sake, and the dangers and joys of such invention. To the horror of humans' capacity to commit evil when it's disguised as good. Love, friendship, ethics, theory– all are realized as the irresolvable, contradictory worlds they are. Victory. Hubris. Guilt. Regret. Self-flagellation as a gesture of recognition, a yearning for closure. The soul's unquenchable thirst for resolution, within oneself, between oneself and the world. 

I am deeply attracted to stories of guilt and regret because these emotions are almost always genuine. They weigh us down impossibly, and the suffering they cause within has the potential to make us realize our best selves like nothing else. A person without regret has not had to take stock of themselves. Who in our country’s history could feel more guilt, and yet be living in a time and political place when it could be less freely expressed, than J. Robert Oppenheimer?

Nolan understands that the moral quandaries facing his protagonist are altogether more dramatically compelling than the Trinity explosion itself. What other director would dare make a film wherein the atomic bomb explosion is not the climax of the narrative? Oppenheimer is three hours of people reflecting on past and future deeds, awash in a mood that is somehow both melancholic and propulsive without compromise to either; it admits the complexity of existence, and the soul’s capacity to change its views over time. Not every film allows its characters to live long enough to suffer the consequences of their actions.

Nolan constructs the film around two confirmation hearings of two very different men– one a conniving career politician hoping for a Cabinet position; the other a scientist with newly pacifist views hoping for security clearance. The two hearings are linked in ways that only become clear much later, and both have the same outcome, revealing just how diametrically contrasted the two applicants are. One seeks to destroy what he believes the other has, and wishes desperately to have himself; his aims are selfish. The other man wishes to correct a collision course he created. His aims are more than selfless; they represent those of a mind which has begun to think on a larger, longer scale. 

A line midway through reminds us that “genius is no guarantee of wisdom.” I think that in between the opening and closing moments, the man watching the raindrops has finally, somberly, tragically, transcended the former and acquired the latter. It has happened against his will. But he is better for it. I cannot express how compelling it is to watch this journey, how thought-provoking. 

Like last year's masterful TÁR, Oppenheimer withholds an opinion on its subject. We instead learn something about ourselves by considering what we conclude, and how it changes with each viewing. The film becomes a mirror, makes us question ourselves and our values, our beliefs and direction in this life. Art can hardly achieve more. For this and for its intricate, somber grandeur, for the intellectual and philosophical demands it makes on its audience, and for its unsurpassable execution, this is the best and most significant American studio picture since Schindler's List. I am aware of the ridiculousness such pronouncements, but after three viewings I still can't help myself. Forgive me! Large-scale films for adults have been anomalies for a while now, and that makes Oppenheimer is a rare bird indeed, one worth cherishing.

2. On Film and Form

Do you know what it is to look upon an original?

We do it in museums all the time, at galleries and plays and concerts. But in cinema, you are almost always looking at a digital projection, at a film that was shot digitally, or a film that was, even if photographed on film, transferred to digital to be color-corrected. And as you know, everything digital is in fact a collection of ones and zeroes. Digital can never capture light, or color; it can only translate it. A digital image can only be reproduced, never produced. It is always and ever a facsimile. 

Film emulsion, on the other hand, captures the actual photons of a moment, sealing them forever, as they transform the chemical composition of the silver halide crystals they land on; as you've heard me say elsewhere, film is in this manner closer to sculpture than digital photography. Only film contains the physicality of a moment. There is no need to translate reality into colored squares.

There’s also the fact that, after twenty years of digital experimentation, there can be no argument that film simply yields a better image. Although a digital picture plane can contain millions of pixels, its range of color is limited to the thousands. Film conversely has millions of colors. Only film can successfully capture the infinitude of color that flesh tones contain, or clouds; only cross-processed stock can even generate the colors I like to use, the greens and cyans which exist well outside the dSLR color gamut. 

For these reasons and others, many filmmakers* continue to shoot exclusively on film– Alice Rohrwacher, Sofia Coppola, and Mia Hansen-Løve being a few examples of directors for whom the format is never in question. 

But at this point, the only new work that is consistently analogue from start to finish, with no digital intermediate, no ones and zeroes whatsoever, are the films of Christopher Nolan, Paul Thomas Anderson, and Quentin Tarantino. These are the only remaining directors who as a matter of course not only shoot analogue, but do film-out edits** and color-time their pictures photochemically.***

Nolan goes furthest in many ways, both artistically and technically: though all three are single-camera**** directors, eschewing the technique (epitomized by Ridley Scott, who’s done so since 2007) of overshooting a scene with many digital cameras and “figuring it out later,” only Nolan’s films have no deleted scenes. He shoots exactly what he writes. The intricate scripts are worked out to the last detail, and somehow he knows it will work.***** As a writer-director myself I’m flabbergasted by this. How does he do it?

Also, Nolan consistently shoots on large-format****** film, not just 35mm. For a visual breakdown, check out the nifty chart here. Note the difference between the 70mm formats and regular digital projection. But IMAX 70mm isn’t just the highest resolution of any movie format ever invented (its digital equivalent would be an impossible 18k); it also has an unparalleled tonal (color, hue) range. This matters more than resolution in the impact of an image. Large-format film also differs from 35mm in being a uniquely grain-free visual space; the filmstrip is simply too big for you to see the grain we all know from 35. There’s nothing quite like it.

Why does any of this matter?

It isn’t only in technicalities that film has the edge. On the one hand, director Lea Mysius says, film “has this aesthetic and tactile component, that the colors are deeper and more contrasty and stronger, and so on and so forth.” But, she adds, “What matters most to me is the poetic component of it. 35mm is so intrinsically loaded with poetry, and there’s mystery in 35. I think it’s because it is a material thing… Philosopher Gaston Bachelard [talks] about how we can have imagination flower out of materiality. And I see film that way. What I mean is that light puts an impression on film, and thanks to this chemical reaction that we can see, all of a sudden, we find that magical and beautiful sensation... 35mm work penetrates because it has an impression on us, the way that light has an impression on film. This is something that, in digital, you don’t have. It’s a lot more straightforward and flat.”

I call it the magic of the tactile. We are organic, not synthetic creatures, and we respond to that which is also organic. The handmade quality of film, the discipline it requires to create, the one-off nature of its physicality, its imperfections, the romance of the flickering filmstrip in the dark… you cannot surpass the real.******* And, because film was the only image capture medium for over a century, we are deeply accustomed its interpretation of light. It is the visual basis for our global cultural memory. Maybe this is why most great-looking digital films, especially historical pictures, attempt to emulate film stock.

Only thirty prints of Oppenheimer were made at its full, IMAX 70mm 1.43:1 ratio. That version of the film weighs 600 pounds and is eleven miles long. Just 113 prints of the “smaller” but still stupendous 70mm 5-perf 2.39:1 ratio were made worldwide (again, refer to the chart above to get an idea of how different this is from digital projection), as well as about 80 35mm prints, one of which played in Seattle’s Uptown Theatre. I saw a digital scan of the full IMAX 1.43:1 positive and was suitably blown away by all it had to offer, but it was the magic of seeing one of those 113 70mm prints unspool at Seattle’s Pacific Place, once at the beginning of the film’s theatrical run and again near the end, that I want to dwell on here. 

See it on film if you can. If you can't, you're still seeing something that originated on that beautiful medium, that was color-corrected photochemically, and that, incredibly for our times, doesn't feature CGI. Speaking of which:

3. A Few Notes on Style

i. Immersion in reality

You can read elsewhere about how the explosion was created using practical effects, how those visualizations of particles were achieved, and more, but I’m interested in what avoiding computer graphics achieves on a philosophical level.

Remember the sensation of watching "old" (I’m thinking pre-1990) films, when you could inherently "Trust the Image?" We can’t do that anymore. Now that anything is possible via CGI, nothing is surprising. Consider the third act of any superhero picture. You’re looking at masses of pixels bombarding each other, and you know it. The viewer’s investment (or at least mine) declines. The image has stopped being what it’s always been– a documentation of something that was in front of a camera lens, whether a person, landscape, miniature model, or painting.

Special effects, in industry parlance, are effects achieved on set. Visual effects are created afterwards with a computer. We watch what we know are special effects in Kubrick’s 1968 2001: A Space Odyssey with a greater sense of awe than any modern space movie, because we know we’re looking at something real. We can sense it. This is why horror films almost never use CGI– because no matter how good it is, you can detect its fakeness, and it ceases to be scary. We are organic creatures, and we respond to the same. The synthetic can only go so far.

Oppenheimer returns us to that environment of being able to trust the image. Everything you’re seeing is real, and quite frankly: you can tell. Friends have shared that the experience of watching this one feels different– the artifice of knowing you’re watching actors somehow falls away, and the sensation of observing real characters begins to take over. I have to believe this is because we’re able to trust the image in this film, and also for another reason: Nolan doesn’t subscribe to the usual rules of character development. We don’t learn about backstories and motivations. From his main down to the smallest supporting characters, we instead watch people behave in the present. “I’ve always actually favored the medieval, Middle English approach to characterization to the more modern, psychological, novelistic approach to characterization in film,” Nolan says, “because in film, character defined through action has always been the strongest, because it’s visual, and it’s narrative-based.”

Viewer immersion is further achieved by the decision to have no composite characters (astonishing for a historical piece), and to use real names for all individuals depicted. We don’t get text onscreen labeling who’s who. Jargon isn’t explained; yes, things fly over our heads. But isn't that what you'd hope for in a realistic film about theoretical physics? What's more exciting than a picture that demands your full attention, that doesn’t pander and re-explain plot points every twenty minutes, to make sure the kiddos can keep up? We rise to the challenge, becoming better viewers. We pick up what we can and move forward. You’ll get it on the next pass.

ii. Sound and feeling

There's a corollary to be found in Nolan's approach to sound, which contemporary cinema doesn't often experiment with. Friends tell me the sound mix is either their favorite or least favorite aspect of the picture. Nolan will sometimes use dialogue as sound– you don’t know what they’re saying exactly. But, like the aforementioned jargon, I'm not sure we need to. You figure it out from their tone, their expression. It’s about the texture of the moment, and Ludwig Göransson’s overpowering and deeply beautiful score does more to immerse us emotionally than any line of dialogue could. As Clémence Poésy’s scientist says in Tenet, when she utters a line that (un)intentionally serves as a dictum for how to read all Nolan’s films: “Don’t try to understand. Feel it.”

I'm aware this is an acquired taste, but I must admit a fondness for art that tries things, and I aspire to evaluate films not on how closely they hew to expected norms, but rather on how they accord with their maker’s intentions. What is the director trying to do? What does this choice accomplish? Ambitious failures excite me more than mediocre successes. The scene of the victory speech given to the Los Alamos staff seated in the auditorium will be taught in film schools. Witness the separation of meaning between sound and image, how the visuals finally give way to the overpowering divide of birthing conscience, a heart breaking before our eyes.

I don’t know if everyone has an emotional response to dynamic camerawork or lighting, or film form generally, but I do. As a photographer I would attempt to increase my skills by shooting obviously ugly things (piles of garbage, mostly) in beautiful ways, learning how to search for the light, to work with it as a scene partner in capturing a moment. Oppenheimer feels similar– an achingly beautiful and sumptuously photographed series of scenes of… scientists and politicians talking for three hours, often in wildly unglamorous institutional spaces.

iii. On the editing

This has to be Nolan’s fastest-paced picture, despite being primarily dialogue. The dense tightness of the editing recalls Stone’s JFK and Scorsese at his best. Notice how we think we see Oppenheimer throwing a glass in the corner three times while listening to Stravinsky's Rite of Spring, but we actually see him complete that action only once. Observe the shots of Oppenheimer’s attorney Lloyd Garrison silently expressing his enthusiasm as Emily Blunt’s Kitty more than holds her own against Roger Robb; they’re such brief shots, but seeing Garrison's face gives the moment further heft, a greater sense of triumph. The couple crying under the rafters in the auditorium scene is onscreen for barely longer than a second, but once you see them, you feel something that lasts longer. I was unprepared for the subjectivity of the editing, especially in act one; the elliptical cutaways evoke a sort of tapestry of psychological interiors, conveying through flash cuts the mind's ability to transcend time and space, to draw disparate connections linked by mood. The use of silence, especially when least expected; the visions and fantasies, potent in their understatement.

Or the intercutting of the Colonel Pash sequence, how that information is relayed to the audience across multiple spans of time within minutes. The intricate layering and revisiting (“...but more useful than a sandwich!”) of a moment, sometimes many scenes later. The labyrinthine script may allude to an event before we see it happen (the Chevalier incident), or present slices of a moment that is only revealed later (the possible assassination of a key character, or, of course, the ending). It doesn’t simply use the security clearance confirmation hearing as a framing device, but leaves it for long sections as the past overwhelms the present (as in the development and testing of the bomb itself), or allows future events to intrude (the final montage involving awards receptions) and slip-slide together with the past. As the black-and-white scenes are filmed on true black-and-white stock,******** not color that’s converted afterwards, the decision to film on which stock was decided beforehand, which represents a degree of foresight I find mind-boggling (especially in scenes that feature both stocks/perspectives, as the AEC meeting where the flowers on the table get moved– itself a clever device to visually confirm we've seen this meeting before).

I had to watch it unspool a final time. For me it was something about living once more in those midcentury rooms, the bare walls and beaming natural light, the light that caresses fabric and faces into the quicksand halls of memory. Communing with technique and reflection. If you require your films to tell you how to think about their characters, or if you need characters you can identify with, rather than merely observe, this may be a frustrating experience. But cinema is built for more than prescriptive storytelling.

Give it a try!

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Notes and Further Reading

The Hollywood Reporter. “This Can’t Be Safe. It’s Got to Have Bite”: Christopher Nolan and Cast Unleash ‘Oppenheimer.' Feature interviewing director and cast about the working process.

Vulture. "An Action Movie About Scientists Talking." In-depth piece by Bilge Ibiri, interviewing Nolan et al on numerous aspects of the film.

The AP. "Christopher Nolan breaks down the best ways to watch a movie, ahead of his ‘Oppenheimer’ release." On where to sit, why B&W, difference between 65 and 70, and why not every scene is shot on IMAX.

Polygon. "So what happens to Oppenheimer’s 11-mile-long IMAX prints after it leaves theaters?"

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*Others include Joanna Hogg, Marie Kreutzer, Catarina Vasconcelos, Hlynur Pálmason, Wes Anderson, Sean Baker, Noah Baumbach, Damien Chazelle, Robert Eggers, Luca Guagdanino,  Pablo Larrain, Mélanie Laurent, Spike Lee, Steve McQueen, Lea Mysius, László Nemes, the Safdies, Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg, Joachim Trier, Apichatpong Weerasethakul,  Edgar Wright and of all people, Judd Apatow; as well as directors who often use 35mm, if not all the time, like Lili Horváth, Kelly Reichhardt, and Greta Gerwig. Franchise pictures that shoot on film also help keep Kodak in business, such as F9, No Time to Die, Wonder Woman, and Star Wars.

**How is analogue film edited nowadays? Here’s Fred Raskin on his working process with Quentin Tarantino: “The negative was developed and printed so that we could screen dailies on 35mm. It was also scanned at 4K. Those 4K scans were down-converted to Avid DNX 115 HD files. That’s what I’d edit with in the Avid. Once production ended Quentin would spend his whole workday in the cutting room with me. When we completed a scene, my Avid assistant would take the cut from me and would generate lists that would go to the film team, who would then conform the film print to match the Avid edit. In that way, we were able to screen the scenes projected on film. Just seeing it that way added to the authenticity of the material.”

Here’s Andy Jurgensen on the workflow for PTA’s Licorice Pizza: “We’re still cutting digitally obviously, but during the shoot, we’re watching film dailies, so we do have to prep that. Then, once we get to a certain point, we do conform workprint. And when we lock, we make lists and cut negative for the photochemical version of the movie… Usually, we get the film first even before we’re getting it digitally because that’s just the way that everything gets processed with the scanning. The pipeline is so unique. So, the first time we’re seeing it is on print. We can just judge so many things when watching it big on film. Not only the performance, but the lighting, and the lenses and focus.” William Fletcher is a film assistant who works on all three directors’ films.

***Nolan on color-timing (and much more in this essential DGA interview): “I've never done a digital intermediate. Photochemically, you can time film with a good timer in three or four passes, which takes about 12 to 14 hours as opposed to seven or eight weeks in a DI suite. That’s the way everyone was doing it 10 years ago, and I've just carried on making films in the way that works best and waiting until there’s a good reason to change. But I haven't seen that reason yet.”

On working without a second unit (from the same interview): “Let me put it this way: If I don’t need to be directing the shots that go in the movie, why do I need to be there at all? The screen is the same size for every shot. The little shot of, say, a watch on someone’s wrist, will occupy the same screen size as the shot of a thousand people running down the street. Everything is equally weighted and needs to be considered with equal care, I really do believe that. I don’t understand the criteria for parceling things off. Many action films embrace a second unit taking on all of the action. For me, that’s odd because then why did you want to do an action film? Having said that, there are fantastic filmmakers who use second and third units successfully. So it all comes back to the question of defining what a director does. Each of us works in different ways. It’s really helped me keep more of my personality in these big films. There’s a danger with big-action fare that the presence of the filmmaker is watered down, it can become very neutral, so I’ve tried to keep my point of view in every aspect of these films.”

****On shooting with a single camera: “I use multi-camera for stunts; for all the dramatic action, I use single-camera. Shooting single-camera means I've already seen every frame as it’s gone through the gate because my attention isn't divided to multi-cameras. So I see it all and I watch dailies every night. If you’re always shooting multi-camera, you shoot an enormous amount of footage, and then you have to go in and start from scratch, which is tricky time-wise.”

Again, click for the full DGA interview, which covers Nolan’s preference for avoiding overshooting, the value of watching dailies to memorize footage, letting actors act, working quickly, visual constants in his films, guild membership vis-a-vis director's cuts, opinions on 3-D, CGI– and why he wears a suit to work!

*****Editor Jennifer Lame and her team on cutting the picture. Lots of details, including a further reason Nolan avoids overshooting: the IMAX magazines (film reels) are only three minutes long! Tom Foligno discusses Nolan’s single-camera approach about halfway through.

******More explanations on the different format types in the list here. In still photography, 70mm would be on the smaller end of 'medium format' (which goes up to 4" x 5”), as 'large format' in the stills world is an 8" x 10” negative. But in motion picture, 70mm is large-format. Moving images traditionally have lower resolutions than still images. 

*******DP Hoyte van Hoytema, in a detailed interview with Kodak: "Although I shoot a lot of commercials using digital cameras, I still believe film is more engaging to watch and is much closer to the human visual experience," remarks van Hoytema. “[E]ven though the larger surface area of the emulsion means the grain is finer – especially in IMAX – they still had enough texture for me. There's still nothing that beats the resolution, depth, color and roundness of the analog image, nor in the feeling overall that film conveys.”

********Kodak had never manufactured black and white IMAX 70mm before, but they did so here at Nolan's request. You're seeing true black and white film at a size, tonal range and resolution never before seen. Says Hoytema: “[I]t was uncertain as to whether they would or could achieve it in time for this production. But they stepped up to the plate and supplied a freshly manufactured prototype DOUBLE-X 5222 65mm filmstock, delivered in cans with handwritten labels on the outside. However, as that filmstock was unfamiliar to everyone, had never been run though IMAX or System 65 cameras, and required the reconfiguration of a 65mm film processor at the lab, making the DOUBLE-X 5222 a feasible proposition involved a great deal of collaboration with Kodak, IMAX, Panavision and Fotokem. It became quite a complex engineering process– encompassing things like the thickness of the backing for the film emulsion, and making new gates and pressure plates in the cameras so as to avoid scratches.”

Says Nolan: “Of course, there were several methods I could have used to create a B&W image, but you never get the same feeling as when using real B&W analog film. And shooting B&W also took me right back to my student days at the Polish National Film, Television & Theatre School in Łódź, where understanding the greyscale, using your spot and incident light meters, and making your own personal judgement were critical in making the final image."

For my photographer friends! On aperture and focal length choices, also from the above article:

Hoytema: “Through the years we have discovered that the sweet spots with IMAX are 50mm and 80mm. Anything beyond those focal lengths and you start to diminish the immersive quality of the image. If you go too long the image appears compressed and more graphic, as if you're looking at a sort of flat screen. Anything too wide becomes more like a fishbowl, where the edges start to fall off too fast. So, the 50mm has become our wide lens, the 80mm our tighter lens. On close-ups they give you the right proximity and wideness, and everything around starts to function like the peripheral vision of your eyes. But when shooting our close-ups, we didn't want the camera to be six feet away from our subject. We wanted to be much tighter, so that you really feel the perspective and the intimacy. Also, I knew we would be filming in low-light situations and would need to shoot at T1.4 rather than a T4."

[Hello, new blog readers! I post at the beginning of every month. Click here for an index of recent notable posts.]

A few years ago Roxanne Ray at the IE interviewed me about my bus driving work, the results of which you can read here, and I wrote an essay (here) at the time about being Asian-American, which I tend not to write about.

The Examiner's Kevin Phan now interviews me about photography and image-making. As much as I love talking about bus stuff, and as rewarding as it was to share a word on racial identity, I'm especially grateful for the opportunity to speak in depth about art. Thank you Kevin for your thoughtful questions, and for everyone involved (Alan, Angela, and more!) for putting this together!

Read the interview here.

The above picture (by Larry Huang) is me in 2008, with a Pentax ZX-7 film camera that I still use today!

Reposting this 2019 breakdown of the story behind the making of the photograph above, by popular request! Enjoy!

This is my favorite photograph I've taken of the Notre Dame. I stood in front of it for a long time before making it. I pride myself in creating images without electronics, that are difficult to replicate, and more importantly, try to capture something of the feeling of the place. The emotion. What did it mean, to stand there, in the days after the murders?

I'd gone there in the weeks prior, more than once, usually in the mornings, searching for the right frame– of mind, of light, of mise-en-scene. Everybody with a camera who comes upon that great facade for the first time does this:

These are the pictures where you look over them and say, "okay. Fine." Not bad. But not good, either. Abandoning depth, the most important compositional element in the two-dimensional format that is photography, needs to be for a killer reason, and these weren't it. I didn't know how to photograph the Notre Dame because I didn't know what it meant to me. Yet.

It was in the days after the massacre that the great facade and its plaza would gain new meaning for me. All of Paris was in shock. As I wrote in the days following November 13, 2015:

We stood there in the hours after. We stood there during the day, and we came back at night. Dumbfounded. That's sawdust in the lower left, absorbing the blood.

We stood by, paralyzed. 

​Do you know about being alone in the world, like she is there? Or him, defined now not by what is there, but what isn't there, what is forever lost?

Everything was different now. Time moved differently; shadows became longer. Even in a crowd, silences were louder than noise: 

This post is not about Notre Dame. It's about what we were thinking about when we thought the fire would ruin everything. Before we learned they preserved the essentials, that the structure still stands, that no one perished. It's about what the parents of those kids in Las Vegas still think about every night and every day, after the world has moved on and somehow managed to forget about 851 killed or injured, an event that remains low profile because it has no political, religious or otherwise easily blameable motivation. It's about what I think about when I think about Paris. 

If I had walked the regular way home on November 13, 2015, this would have been the last known photograph:

I took note of the surroundings in a way I hadn't before. The quiet reflection of the city was especially potent now, in spaces normally packed but now empty. ​​

The absence of tourists made me think back on them. There was an East Asian family I remembered from a week earlier (visible in the "okay fine" photos above), in the plaza, taking photos of each other and the grand facade, skipping about and laughing in a manner both silly and reverent. They would pause, and a moment later the daughter would do a cartwheel. You can sense their happy-go-lucky sensibility in their gestures above. 

Without succumbing to the myth that tragedy makes people wise (that only happens sometimes), I want to voice the possibility that terrible experiences can open your eyes to goodness in ways you only thought you knew before. You learn the value of things.

I now saw how much that family was onto something. You have to laugh your way through this life as much as anything else. I am most impressed by those who conflate lightness and wisdom, playfulness and thoughtfulness in the same breath of their lives, without compromise to either. If there is a hidden presence linking all things, don't you imagine it would approve equally of the Notre Dame's intricate artistic virtuosity... and the giggle in a preteen cartwheel? That there might be as valuable of an answer in her spirited and innocent verve, equally deserving of echoing through the centuries?

I like to think so. It was with that in mind that I picked the camera up again, and exposed three times on the same negative. The girl was gone, of course, but I wanted to impose her joie de vivre onto the great cathedral in a way that would let the best things about both attitudes live. It cannot all be somber. There must be movement, energy, and sometimes it won't be sitting there waiting for us to pick up. We have to create it from within ourselves. 

That was what I could see now, that I couldn't see before.

The most lasting advice I received in Art School was to "think about how I think." To question why I respond this or that way, and to remember that the response is always a choice. Now that people talk to each other less on the bus, there's a lot more time for me to think while driving– and much tougher things to think about. We who step out into the streets of Seattle are faced daily with a proposition: what are we to make of all this? Will it ever change? We live on the precipice of despair. How do we keep from falling in? Read on (and pardon the length– this is a month's worth of blog posts all at once! Bookmark it and enjoy!)!

1. Of Laughter and Forgetting

I walked into the base after another rewarding evening on the mighty 7/49. Operator (we'll call him) Jim was there. I like Jim. I don't need people to be like me in order for me to enjoy their company, but he and I have a fair amount in common anyway.

"How was your night?"
“Mellow," Jim replied. "Except kids on my last trip through Union southbound, the trip before I see you, that's when they always wanna get on and smoke that shit. I went back there and told em, hey–"
"You went back there?”
“Yeah, man!”
“Wow!”
“What, we're not supposed to?”
“Well,” I said, “I'm not gonna tell you how to drive, but shoot man, I admire your courage.”
“Sometimes you got to! These clowns–"
"Jim, here's– okay here's what I worry about. I think to myself what if he has a weapon. What if that's his friend across the aisle. What if he has five brothers and you're gonna see him again in an hour.”
“True. Okay. True.”
“But I understand wanting to do something about this stuff.”
“I can't stand it! I can take everything else. I don't mind all the other stuff." He paused, then spoke again. "You know what gets me about it? Is these youngsters don't care if there's kids on the bus, or elderly, they don't care about anyone else–"
"Exactly," I said. "Exactly! These new kids, 'cause not one of them is from Seattle, and–" he was nodding vigorously– “you know how beforehand, the whole concept of the street was, the ultimate currency of the street is respect? These kids don't get that!"
"Yeah! They don't understand!”
“The street has always been about respect. It's the whole point of how everything works out here. And now we have all these new people who–”
"–don't care.” 
“Exactly.” 
“You know, I watch 'em. At Pike. I wanna see how this shit works. Have you seen those puffs of smoke they get? I seen this lady had a piece of foil this big, with a huuuge–”
“No way! She's gonna overdose in no time!”
“Yeah! I thought the whole idea they smoke on buses is to get outta the wind and get the biggest hit a smoke they can, but they're gettin' it out there too! Just a mountain of fumes. You shoulda seen this lady. Like this.”
“She's gonna be dead in a week!”

2. The Lament

Yes, we were laughing. I dare you to call us insensitive. We, who in the early days of this drug melee saw the rows of dead bodies every pre-dawn morning, laid out on Third between Pike and Union, getting wrapped in body bags and tarp so they could quickly be removed from view before the day's commuters arrived. We, who are forced to inhale opiates against our will. Who are faced with impossible decisions. Some of us have failed drug tests as a result of being too close to offenders. 

We, who witness crimes we can't stop, because no one will intervene, no one can stop this. My first experience with fentanyl was a young mother coming up to apologize for her toddler son, who'd vomited on the bus floor due to the fumes coming from the teens smoking right next to them. 

We, who spent a lifetime making sure we didn't expose our bodies to this garbage, because we wanted to live long and healthy lives with our loved ones. That care, those decisions– are being taken away from us and every passenger who's done the same. Secondhand smoke of all kinds has lasting effects. Additionally, today's opiates are the sort which can cause addictive behaviors from a single use, permanent brain damage from a single exposure. Even if some fears are overblown, you have to admit this isn't kid stuff. Shouldn't consent be a necessary component of drug abuse? Especially indoors?

We watch as those with real power to change things remain distant, vocal but unmoving. We read with amazement statements from officials which reveal they don't know the first thing about what goes on out here, in the deep hours of the night (I'm not talking about Metro officials, where there have finally been some positive personnel changes). No, it is not us who are insensitive. It's the system. The system is a monster, unstoppable and insatiable. 

The pattern was first revealed to the public in 2017: "vagrants" from small and mid-sized cities in the rural Midwest and South are given one-way Greyhound tickets to major West Coast cities. They get dumped in Seattle, where possessing, using and distributing drugs not only won't land you in any legal trouble, but the goods can be had for dirt cheap. Where ordinances are not enforced, shoplifting and breaking and entering are not prosecuted crimes, and no arrests will be made that don't involve physical assault. These are mandates I’ve learned about on the street from those with rueful personal experience. Basically: it's Disneyland. This is the kind of once-a-century lawbreaker's heaven you'd think would result in the happiest of delinquents. 

3. However.

The fact that street people are so uniformly miserable (which wasn't true pre-pandemic, but is now) is a testament to their humanity. They are not enjoying this melee. It is not fun for them. 

They are hurting. 

They are, like most of us, abandoned by those who profess to look out for them. They are waiting for someone to ask them what they need. Can you believe it has occurred to no elected official to do so? When will those in power learn that solutions are immeasurably better if those affected are involved in the decision-making process? Though it is true that kindness doesn't always mean giving people what they want, it is usually worthwhile to collaborate, to co-create.

Of course, Seattle's problems are well beyond the purview of Metro's responsibility. Metro is merely the setting, the whipping boy and scapegoat who takes on the frankly heroic role of the unwilling venue, while we– operators, commuters, passengers, residents– wait (im)patiently for a solution. Something needs to be done about the practice of shipping les miserables in from places that don't want them, and dumping them in cities unprepared to respond. It is not the way to take care of people.

4. Picture Yourself in Other Shoes

You've just been relocated to a new city, Seattle. Bigger than anywhere you've been. You have no contacts. You don't know about the Real Change Directory because why would you, you don't know where anything is, and it's obvious the streets are dangerous. You're out of your element and you know it. They said it would be Amazon and Starbucks. You don't need a latte; you need a weapon. And you need to figure a lot of stuff out. Where to get meds, where to get a state ID and how, learning what you can and can't achieve in Seattle based on your past, finding lists for housing, looking up shelters, food, clothes for living, clothes for interviews, a phone, where's a shower, a dentist for this toothache that's killing me, how to get insurance, a job, a job, a house, a job, my education records, a prescription renewal, internet, a library card, an address, more food, painkillers maybe, something for this headache, maybe a drink so I don't feel the cold…

And then, of course, you learn about the drugs. You learn they have that thing they had back home; not as much of it (Seattle isn't even in the top 20 cities for fentanyl, if you can believe it– see below), but still dirt cheap. And they can't arrest you over it?

Here's a description from a former user:

"Think of it this way….think about the most sick you’ve ever been in your life. Think about the cold sweat and chills running down your spine and the dreaded stomach cramps where you know you need to find a bathroom NOW. Now add on being nauseated. Now add on your whole body being sore and achey as if you worked out for 6 hours without stretching. Now add on your skin feeling like it’s going to explode. Now add on some yawning, eye tearing, HIGHLY bad anxiety, restless legs and the knowledge that this is going to last an entire week… or you could just get some Fentanyl and when you do it, allllll the sickness goes away INSTANTLY. It’s an amazing feeling if you’ve ever experienced it. And not only does it go away, your anxiety goes away and is replaced with good feelings. If you could live like that all the time with no consequences, why wouldn’t you? A lot of addicts think it’s worth the risk. I know I did while I was using. Addicts will literally seek it out not caring about whether it’s deadly or not because they need it to survive their day. They need it to not be sick, to stop the withdrawal and to get the high so they can function."

Why fix your problems when you can just forget them? Why bother with struggling to live when you can die instead? All deaths are suicides, someone once wrote. I disagree, but these deaths make you wonder. The new generation, this rural Gen Z influx, doesn't currently have the ability to take care of itself. That much is obvious. Seattle has the ability to take care of them, but isn't.

If you can't stop a generation from killing itself, you could at least create a safe space where they can do so while you figure out next steps. For nearly a century the city's most extreme cases to resided in the Jungle. With that enormous and largely autonomous facility closed, what was once hidden plays out in broad daylight. What are we to make of a society that allows such behavior? I hear conspiracy theories everyday. Similar to the dog days of 2003, when everyone had a solution to the Iraq war, now everyone has an opinion on what would fix everything, what's really going on, and why no one's taking action.

"I do not know with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones,” Einstein wrote. What weapons indeed, you ask. How about these: drugs? The Internet? Manipulation of information? Taking advantage of a country's most vulnerable people?

This is a picture of the mind racing.

5. The State of Things

"You can get a contact high from fentanyl, you'll black out," I was saying to Jim. "I've talked with passengers who've had that happen to them, just last night this mom from Texas. She didn't know what hit her. Woke up on the other side of town, had to walk all the way back."
“It's sad,” Jim said, in a tone representing both defeat and discovery.
“They're all new. These kids.”
“Yeah," he added. "And they don't hang out with the old guys. Have you ever noticed the guys who drink, and the guys who smoke that shit… never mix?”
“Never! In fact if someone cracks open a beer, I'm honestly relieved because I know for sure, that that guy's not gonna smoke any fentanyl!" Jim howled in recognition as I continued. "And you know what else? I kinda like having people who smell bad now, because they'll clear out a coach!"
Jim could barely keep his composure. In between guffaws he said, “You know that, you know that guy who shuffles?”
“I know exactly who you're talking about!"
"He's my magic, my little good luck charm!"
"All you have to do is get him on–”
“–and you can ask him to go sit in the back, he doesn't even get mad, just says okay, and starts going back there, and then– and then–"
“They can't handle it!”
“They can't take it!”
“It's beautiful!”

No, we are not being insensitive. We laugh because laughter is the only tool we have left. When all power has been taken away, there is nothing left to do but make music. Our lives are short, and while civilization crumbles around us– if indeed it is crumbling– I will laugh, smile, share joy, including with those individuals alluded to above, they who are most scorned and feared. 

We can remember that people have different starting points in the game of life, some with less resources than others, and this isn't their fault. Everyone makes stupid decisions; only some of us have to live out giant chunks of their lives defined by our worst moments. Can you blame them for their hopelessness? Can you blame them for not caring about the rules of a society they feel has rejected them? For flaunting their disregard, the way a child does who feels humiliated, wronged? These are the grapes of wrath. "Kill me please, or else I will," reads a scrawled plea on a light rail seat.

This is the state of things.

6. How I Live Now

I greet the new boys and girls on the block with the same gusto as ever, and they respond with ignorance or confusion. They're on edge because they're on foreign turf, a new city with boundaries and histories they know they're clueless about. Survival mode. They're not expecting anything approaching kindness, but I give it to them anyway, without expecting a response… and then it starts to happen. 

It begins.

There is one, then maybe another, not as much as pre-COVID but even still, in these conditions, there are glimmers. You can't stop humanity, can't curtail its hunger for connection. "This guy's cool," I'll hear them say. "He actually talks. Actually likes his job, gives a shit about the people." Eventually they begin to understand you're not looking down on them. Building relationships with some of the crew at 12th and Jackson has been one of my great post-pandemic joys. 

A young man running out from his hangout spot behind a bus shelter, stepping away from his friends for a moment to pump his first in the air toward me with gratitude, pounding his solar plexus and nodding with a mighty grin, returning my bow and salute. These are the moments I was made for. 

A lovely conversation with two young men that ends with one sheepishly telling me, "I'm sorry if you ever see me, uh you know, passed out on the street or acting out. I'm kinda hooked on that stuff."
"We all have phases, right?"
He beamed with appreciation. "Exactly."

Or another, chatting it up with a young man in recovery. He's on methadone now, and employed, reveling in the de-stressed headspace of clean living. Look at the kindness in his eyes. I know that face. I've seen it on others. It is my own face, the child who lives inside the man, still somehow hoping for goodness, sometimes hesitant to believe. Here it is again in a prematurely aged man, likely a veteran of time behind bars, miraculously still in possession of a certain recognizable softness in the eyes. I want to give him a hug.

You realize there are degrees. It isn't the same level of unstable, or type of usage. Some street people are scared of other street people.

"Sorry 'bout that," a woman said after her screaming partner stormed off the coach. "I ain't even with him."
"Well, I'd rather have you on the bus than him!"
"Ha! Yeah, he's got his own, uh, problems."
"Don't we all. 'Specially these days."
"Right. These days is crazy, with them blues…" Blues means fentanyl. "They still overdose every night! Addicts! Dumbasses! I'm a drug addict, but shit…"
"Moderation, right?"
"Right. I don't smoke that shit. You'd hafta be crazy to go near that stuff." 
"Totally. Too much… death!"
"Right, all you do is overdose on that bullshit. You take it, then ya die. Simple. People thought heroin was something, pssshhhh, heroin ain't got nothin' on this."

A man behind me, speaking to his ladyfriend as they watch another panoply of incomprehensible behaviors at a bus stop; a fellow outside had desperately yelled for me to wait for him, only to lose interest and start doing handstands. "Man, shit like that is why we get left." Referring to how often buses pass up zones now. "No wonder!" 

7. New Frontiers

I realize it's the same game as before, just under harsher circumstances. Street people used to be from Seattle, and they weren't all on drugs. Now they're strangers in a strange land, further ostracized by pandemic fears, surrounded by cheap temptation and money they can't have. But we can still push toward connection. Society's given up on them, they seem to have given up on themselves, and yet…

Seattle has always been a frontier town. This is a place of beginnings. The recent corporate takeovers have tried their best to conceal it, but no amount of homogenized, artless extravagance can suppress the city's grit-grime texture, its envelope-pushing origins, the cluttered vibrance and dirty beauty of its enterprising spirit. Cities are living things, with forces of gravity that extend beyond the control of leaders and interests. Frontiers are born in rebellion. They involve strife, violence, unorganized angst that dreams of something greater. These are the ingredients humans have for rebirth. We are failing forward, stumbling together in the night, and it is all pointing in a direction, no more visible to us than to our forbears who lived through worse hardship. Suffering is when we grow, learn, bind ourselves to something higher, and Seattle is currently in labor. 

Am I afraid? Sometimes, yes. Am I saddened and frustrated? Sometimes, yes. I'm saddened when street people assume I hate them, because others do, and act accordingly. I'm frustrated when they default to believing they are unloved, that the world's against them. They, like the rest of us, see only what they're looking for, and they accordingly fail to see my smile, fail to hear my words and tone. They were respected and acknowledged for a moment in the night, appreciated by a stranger for their common humanity, and they didn't have a clue. 

It's their loss.

I keep on. I do my part. They don't have to respond. I do this for myself. I do it for the greater good. 

It is a part of me I wish to keep alive.

–

Sources and further reading:
Importing unhoused people:
The Guardian US, 2018: “Bussed Out: How America Moves Its Homeless.” Online Journalism Awards.

Seattle's problems less severe than other cities:
American Addiction Centers, 2023: "Highest Drug Use by City." Primarily midwest cities; breakdowns by drug type.
American Addiction Centers, 2023: "Top 10 US States with Drug Overdose Deaths." West Virginia sits at #1. Data and context for each state.
Monarch Shores Recovery: "10 Cities with Worst Drug Problems." With info for each city.
Families Against Fentanyl: "Fentanyl By State: Report." A data compilation primarily using 2021 CDC data.
CDC: "Drug Overdose Mortality by State."

On policy:
ChangingTheNarrative, 2023. "The Tired Narratives of Drug Policy." Clarification of stigmatizing/reductive language regarding addiction and policing issues; however, not Seattle-specific (in practical terms, dealing and possessing are not illegal here).
ChangeWA, 2020: "A Loophole that Effectively Legalizes Most Crime in Seattle." Analysis of Seattle city council action to excuse and dismiss most misdemeanor crimes.
Seattle City Attorney: "Seattle Isn't Dying."Alternate opinion to above.
KUOW, 2022: "Why is Seattle dropping 2,000 misdemeanor cases?" Explanation of the backlog and choice.

Drug impacts on the body:
CDC: "Health Problems Caused by Secondhand Smoke."
Johns Hopkins University, 2023. "Opioid Use Disorder." On addictive behaviors and impacts.
American Addiction Centers, 2022: "Opiates, Overdose and Permanent Brain Damage." Brief explanation of hypoxic brain damage.
NIH, 2020: "Fentanyl panic goes viral: The spread of misinformation about overdose risk from casual contact with fentanyl in mainstream and social media." Analysis of various comments, their impacts, and degree of foundation in fact.
WhiteHouse.gov: "Fentanyl: Safety Recommendations for First Responders" (PDF). Unlike operators, first responders primarily encounter fentanyl in solid form.

The international perspective
DEA, 2020: "Fentanyl Flow to the United States." Executive Summary, Unclassified Document (PDF).
The Guardian, 2023: "The China-Mexico fentanyl pipeline: increasingly sophisticated and deadly." Brief overview of business models.

The Urbanist's Ray Dubicki chats it up with Nathan. We talk about buses, photography, the changing face of Seattle, its evolving crises, the need for creativity and ways of harnessing it, and so much more.

Listen and read all about it here!

Enjoy!

Updated for 2025–resources and ways of navigating this fascinating job. Welcome new operators; and welcome to the old-timers, too. If we don't have refresher courses, we lose our touch. Maybe this post can serve as a refresher course of sorts while we wait for the County to pony up the cash for such things in real life.

Before we get into the nitty-gritty below, let's focus on three things going forward in the new year.

1. Stay in your seat during security situations. You're safer there, with access to the radio, and the shield to protect you. Opening the doors makes the shield more effective for you, and gives others an opportunity to move around or exit if they wish.
2. Let them "win." Don't give in to pride and try to win arguments with passengers, even if you know you're right. In the moment this can be very hard to do, but keep reminding yourself: Avoid contests of will. Why? Because you have a lot to lose. Some of the passengers have nothing to lose. It's not an equal playing field. Deep breaths!
3. Check your left mirrors *before* you move the coach. You may be tempted to begin pulling out from a zone while checking those mirrors; look at them first, and then move.  Otherwise you're re-entering traffic blind, and that's not worth it. Now, on to the nitty-gritty:

A few reminders about operating downtown:

Third Avenue is the street which has the most bus traffic per hour, per day, in the world. It requires focus and skill to make this work, and you have focus and skill. Take pride in what you do. Do the Weave. What is the Weave? It’s explained fully in the Book (now called the Manual, under "Third Ave Operations"), but for now, you can condense it all into three easy tips:

1. Use the left lane except to service a zone, or prepare to service a zone. This way, you don’t block zones that aren’t yours.
2. The bus in the right lane has the right of way. It goes first when a red light turns green.
3. Don’t pass buses that use the same stops as you (unless their 4-ways are on). It’s easier than you think to learn which routes use your stops and which don’t!

• Don’t, please don’t, be that bus who just sits in lane 1 all the way up 3rd. You annoy everyone behind you, and you make things more complicated for yourself by reducing right-side clearance and creating opportunities for impulse riders who want you at a zone that isn’t yours. Their bus will come shortly.

• Don’t use your 4-ways at a zone in the CBD, unless you’re going to be there for a while (wheelchair, issue, etc).
• No right turns on red in the CBD.
• Every zone in King County: Third bus in line makes a second stop. Scan the zone just in case.
• Be careful crossing 3rd at Spring. Cars coming up Spring have a line of sight that has them looking at the traffic light at Fourth Avenue, not Third. There have been many accidents here. You shouldn’t be charging any intersections in the CBD, but don't risk this one. Not worth it.
• Use the left lane approaching the NB 3rd/Virginia zone, so coaches turning right onto Virginia can use lane 1. (While we're talking about 3/Virginia, remember to never roll the curb during that right turn, as your coach will get damaged by the overhang there. This is a fireable offense.)
• NB 3rd/Pine: Pull all the way up to the driveway, past the zone flag. This allows more room for coaches behind you. Similar to NB 15th/42nd (Pull well past the flag, for the same reason), or EB Campus Parkway/Brooklyn (when another coach is visible behind you).

 

• Take care of each other. If you see a trolley operator putting his poles back up, and you’re the bus coming up behind him, don’t pass him/her. Use your coach to block traffic so (s)he can perform that task safely. Or, do like in the old days and hop out of your coach and help them put their poles back up.

• Working at night, like me? Know where the security teams are in the CBD, and feel free to reroute your coach to them (head up to 3/Virg instead of turning right for your 36 layover, etc) if you need them. In the aforementioned example, there’s even wire that allows for you to go to them and then return to your terminal without dropping poles.

Speaking of trolleys:

Hello, operators new to trolley! A few reminders:

• You don’t need to power through deadspots. It’s bad for the electricity (you’re arcing the power every time you do that), and it gives a jolt to the passengers, which they don’t like, especially if you’re doing that for the whole ride. Instead, coast through them. Take pride in your work! Memorize where all the deadspots are for your route. This is easier than it sounds: start with the CBD, which has the most complicated wire. Make a note of where the front of your bus is when you hit a deadspot. I use the middle of the front doors as my reference point. When I pass by that tree, or that newspaper bin. The next time you go through that deadspot, lift your foot off the power pedal right before you pass that point. You'll get to where you know where every deadspot is on your route within a couple of inches. What a pro you are!
• You don’t need to go fast. Trolleys are designed to roll. Diesels have pretty strong retarders; trolleys don’t. They roll further than you think. you’ll make it through your deadspot fine. Also, because they roll further than you think, you don’t need to use the power pedal as much as you do in a diesel. If you do, you’ll end up braking too much, and we all know how much that hurts our knees. Maximize the time you spend coasting.
• Use the side wire at every opportunity, especially at 5/Jackson, NB Pike, and SB Union. You don’t know what’s going to happen in these places, and you may be there for a while for whatever reason, and you don’t need to hold up trolleys behind you.
• Slow down to 9-10mph for special work. You'll get written up at 11mph.
• Some people like using the route override switch. I don't. I never use it. Too much chance of forgetting it later and creating problems for myself. Turn signals only for me. Which brings up:
• Worried about your turn signal accidentally triggering a switch, because you're not familiar enough with the wire yet, or because you have to merge where there is a switch? Use your four-ways instead! Much better than not signaling at all. Let cars know you're about to do something weird.
• Don't accelerate until after the back of your coach has completed the turn– remember, the poles are still going through the turning wire.
• Pay attention to the wire. Pay more attention to the road, but pay attention to the wire. If you're not completely sure which lane of wire your poles are on, get out and confirm.
• If safe to do so, I find it faster to put the poles up manually, rather hitting "lower poles" and ESSing. This is what we all did not so long ago, when trolleys had no ESS!
• Hot tip: Open the rear end of your front roof hatch so you can hear the wire. Try driving with the AC/heaters off for a while, so you can familiarize yourself more easily with what you want to hear– and especially what a fahslabend sounds like.

Generally (diesels and trolleys):

• Don’t rush. Don’t charge yellows. Take your time. Accidents and arguments happen when you're rushing. I know what you’re thinking: that if you take your time, your break won’t be as long. I have two answers to that: firstly, it’s less true than you think. Driving at 35mph instead of 25mph only gets you to the terminal 2 or 3 minutes earlier. You can't fight it. Doing the route at 25mph is much more relaxing. There's no point punishing yourself to get an extra couple of minutes. It’s not equal to the degree of added mental stress, and added physical strain. I’ve only recently discovered that half the reason my body doesn’t ache is because I keep it under 25-30mph. It’s worth 2 minutes of your break to be relaxed your whole ride down. Remember this also when you’re getting toward the end of your route, end of your shift, or running late– don’t speed up. You’ll want to. Don’t. That's when accidents happen. You want to keep this job!
• Secondly, if you’re relaxed during your trip, you end up not needing as long of a break. You’ve taken a bit of a “break,” as it were, while you were driving!
• Don't like your schedule? Neither do I. Fill out a green sheet (OSFR) so Scheduling knows about it. I know you think that'll lead nowhere. I was filling one out for the route 2 many years ago when I was new, and a senior operator laughed at me the whole time, watching me and telling me what a hopeless waste of effort I was creating for myself. And you know what happened? They fixed the 2 schedule. Don't complain about your runcard if you haven't filled out a green sheet.
• Pull forward at terminals. This makes room for your coworkers behind you.
• We’re a team. Be nice to other ops. Don’t run them off the road, pass on the right, or do things that cars do. You’re a professional. You’re beyond stuff like that. You’re not in a rush. Run it late and stay happy. Wave hello.
• See an operator having an issue at a terminal? Go over and see what they need. You can tell if they’re having a passenger issue because their doors will be open. Everything suddenly becomes easy to handle when there are two operators. Sleeper, unruly passenger, etc... suddenly it’s a cinch. Be that cinch. Operating can be a lonely job. Our colleagues need to know there are others out there who care. Who will step in. Be that person. Wave hello!

Further reading, including passenger stuff:

-What I've Learned From Other Bus Drivers (half of everything I know comes from my awesome colleagues. Tons of hot tips here)
-A Love Letter for My Colleagues: Exercises and Stretches for Operators (half the battle of a happy mental state is taking care of your body. Those lil' aches and pains you're having may be impacting your view of the job more than you think!)
-For New Bus Drivers: Thoughts, Tips, and Stories
-Skip-stopping and Newbies (explanation of the Weave vs skip-stopping outside the CBD)
-How to Drive the 7: The Complete Care Package (everything from stop-by-stop directions to tips on fights and sleepers!)
-I Don't Know What a Trolley is, Part I
-I Don't Know What a Trolley is, Part II