Columnist Tim Graham: Lesson 1: Don’t coach and drive

Tim Graham

Thursday, Feb. 25, 1999 | 10:57 a.m.

Somewhere on Maryland Parkway, not far from the Thomas & Mack Center, a Metro squad car pulls up behind a scarlet and gray bus.

Flashing lights come on. A siren blurts out.

The bus pulls over and idles.

A policeman walks around the front of the bus. The side door slides open and the officer steps aboard.

"Can I see some ID please?" he asks the impeccably attired, black-haired driver. While the officer waits, his panning flashlight illuminates a dozen college kids holding basketballs and four guys with clipboards.

"Sir, do you know why I pulled this bus over?" the officer asks, glancing up from the driver's credentials.

"No, I don't."

"You were swerving all over the road back there. You started off on the shoulder, veered into the high-speed lane and came back again. What's the problem?"

"Yeah," the well-dressed man replies, thumbing toward the back of the bus. "Those guys with the clipboards advised me not to drive. But I didn't listen. They can't tell me anything I don't already know."

"Sir, step out of the bus. I'm going to have to ask you to walk ten paces on this line."

Shiny Italian loafers stride onto the white paint.

Heel, toe. Heel, toe. Heel, toe.

Just when the well-dressed man gets to the end of the line, seemingly having passed the test, he stumbles to the asphalt.

"Try it again, sir."

The well-dressed man struggles back to his feet. Once again he walks the line. Nine perfect steps and then he bites it.

"Sir, that's twice in a row you almost made it to the end before falling down."

The well-dressed man shrugs his shoulders.

"Can you recite the alphabet for me?" the officer asks.

The well-dressed man, his hair now mussed and his tie undone, rattles off some letters. "A-B-C ... W-Y-Z."

"I'm sorry, sir. You skipped over X and O."

"I don't know those letters. Never had any use for them."

"Well," the officer says, scratching his head, "how about counting backward from 25?"

"Nope," the well-dressed man replies. "I can only count up from 25."

The officer starts to wonder how somebody like this could get a license to drive a bus.

"Can't any of those guys with the clipboards help you drive the rest of the way?" he asks the well-dressed man.

"What, are you crazy?" he screams, flailing his arms and jumping up and down like a child, thinking it will help get his message across better. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle this thing, and I get paid big bucks to do it.

"Those guys tried to give me directions. They gave me all these maps and whatnot. But I'll figure it out on my own."

The officer can't comprehend the well-dressed man's egotism and aloofness.

"Don't you want to reach your destination as quickly and safely as possible?"

Bill Bayno is puzzled by the question. He is even more baffled by the realization he is all dressed up with no place to go.