I also once had this postcard. Mike I would take an American Airlines 990 back from San Diego on what would be our last flight taking the bus to and from LAX. The flight itself was wonderful. American Airlines had a great sound system, so we put on our headsets and listened to music the whole way. As often happened that time of year, there were fires on the hills enroute to LAX. The airport was also covered in low clouds, so even though we came in for our approach, the pilot pulled up and went around again before we finally landed on the next approach.
We exited the terminal and caught sight of a bus we could take, feeling fortunate that it had not departed before we got there. Unfortunately, we were on the wrong bus from a philosophical standpoint. Just a mile or two before our stop in South Gate, just before leaving Watts, a passenger in the back of the bus, acting suspiciously the whole way, and another in the front who obviously knew the other guy, robbed the driver just before they got off--at first I thought one of them was tickling the bus driver from behind as he had both arms around the driver while the driver sounded as if he was making really odd noises. In unison, when we realized what was happending, we turned to one another and quietly mouthed, "They're robbing the bus!" The one with a large, rusty kitchen knife then came back toward us, the last two passengers, demanding that Mike give him his watch. Mike simply lifted up his arm and the young robber pulled it off his arm and then turned back toward the front of the bus.
Mike then suddenly reached for his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. I thought he had gone crazy and was about to tell the two robbers: "You forgot my wallet." But he then tossed it to the floor, under the seat in front of us. Without looking down, for fear that what had just happened would be noticed, I carefully moved my foot over and placed it atop Mike's wallet. The two robbers didn't look back and exited the bus. The one with the knife pointed it back toward the front door and ordered, "Drive on." The driver closed the door and pulled away. I looked down at the armed young man and thought that with only a kitchen knife, we could have easily run him over with the huge bus.
The driver stopped once we got into South Gate and went to call RTD HQ. The police soon arrived and took our stories. However, the driver would not continue on to our stop a few blocks away. Mike was forced to call his dad, who picked us up and then dropped me off at my house before they drove home. We felt completely insulted that we had been part of a robbery, yet the bus company didn't even take us to our stop but merely abandoned us on a street corner, not even close to home.
We no longer would go to LAX by bus after that close call, having sat motionless like two pigeons. The robber with the knife could have stabbed us both, and we probably would have still just sat there, dumbfounded.
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