Paris Banks sprayed the seat with Lysol before sliding into the last row on the right. Rochell Brown put out her cigarette, tucked herself behind the steering wheel and slapped the doors shut.
It was 8:37 a.m., and the No. 17 bus began chugging westward across Detroit.
On stepped the fast-food worker who makes chicken shawarma that’s delivered to doorsteps, the janitor who cleans grocery stores, the warehouse worker pulling together Amazon orders.
By 9:15, every available row on the bus was occupied. Strangers sat shoulder-to-shoulder. The city might be spread across 139 square miles, but one morning last week there was no way to socially distance aboard this 40-foot-long New Flyer bus. Passengers were anxious and annoyed. Resigned, too…
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