When the Latin "omnibus" went into labor and in its final contraction delivered itself of the new-born, tiny word "bus" -- which come to think of it, still mewls and squeals to this day -- there was a keen sense among the upper classes, consisting of those not upper enough to have their own coach much less a porte-cochere, that this new means of urban transportation was disturbingly democratic, because it permitted a cheek-by-jowl or possibly even leg-to-leg contact between various levels of society, so that the upper classes would now be travelling with the sort they would never have had to rub shoulders with before.

This is captured in one of Grandville's caricatures in his "Vie privee des animaux." In the one I have in mind, several well-dressed animals standing at the mid-19th century version of a bus stop are looking condescendingly at some other poorly-dressed animals who are either (at this point memory falters) standing at the same stop or perhaps already mounting into the carriage. The caption shows that one of the well-dressed animals (who are, of course, more human than humans) is commenting archly to the other well-dressed one: "Omnibus." You have to supply the scorn in the voice yourself -- Grandville's audience would have managed it without prompting.

It's been a long trajet or trajectory, from Grandville's "omnibus" to Burl Ives and Marilyn Munroe in "Bus Stop."

Now if you don't mind, I've got to stop now, and run down the street as fast as I can to catch the free bus (it's less than a mile away) that comes on the hour, the one that goes to the Senior Citizen Center.