I’m sure that I’ll rant about public transportation more than just on Mondays, but I think for a while, I’ll try to share an awesome story with you every Monday morning. And let’s face it, that’s one less day I have to think about content, right?
We should get things started off with a bang, too, so I’ll start with the only day that I’ve wished for a car.
My boss, who can’t remember how to attach files to emails, has a really hard time understanding that the train runs on a schedule. And if I’m not there when it leaves…I can’t get on it. So he’s constantly just asking me one more thing or making endless small talk as I watch my train leave the station.
The day in question was one of those days. I usually leave the office at 4:00 pm, to catch the 4:13 train. It takes 20 minutes to get to my stop from the office. That day, I had missed the 4:13 and the 4:28 and was running to catch the 4:43. I reached my stop just a little past 5:00 pm and went to wait for my bus. The 5:10 bus.
Twice in the three months before this day, the 5:10 bus had not shown up at all. Every other time I had to take it, it was very late. And so I sat down to wait.
And wait. And wait. And wait.
The buses are on a 20-minute schedule at that time of day. By 5:30, the time for the next bus, I was still waiting.
And waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
It was a cloudy, humid day. One of the first hot days of the year. The sky was so swollen with rain, it looked like it might explode.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Finally, at 5:45, when I could have walked home nearly twice (it takes about 25-30 minutes) in the time I had been waiting for the bus, I stalked off toward home.
About halfway across a parking lot, I saw the bus FINALLY coming around the corner. I ran to catch it at the next stop.
Safely on the bus, I figured my troubles were over.
At the next stop, there was a woman waiting. She was not a small woman. She couldn’t climb the two stairs to get on the bus, so the driver had to activate the handicap-person hydraulic system for her. This system is slower than Christmas. The woman finally made it on the bus, sat down and left her walker out in the aisle; she immediately starting having the loudest conversation ever with the bus driver…about coupons. As our bus was pulling back out into the street, the 5:50 bus (of the same route) passed us. It stopped at the next stop and we passed it.
We, however, got to stop for the CAN! Academy kids. One of whom, who was at most 14, was pushing an enormous stroller with her infant in it. Cue hydraulic system again. When the kids got their kid on the bus, they found themselves at an impasse. The large woman’s walker was still in the middle of the aisle (as was half of herself), and she wasn’t really interested in moving it. The bus driver refused to go until they sorted it out. We sat at the intersection through three lights and the rest of my patience.
The 5:50 bus passed us once again, as we got underway. We were close to my stop, so I thought, again, that my pain was about to end. I pushed the dingy-bell, requesting a stop. The bus driver…ignored it.
I jumped up and said, “HEY! That’s my stop.”
She said, “Well, that other bus is behind me, so I can’t stop there.” It does no good to yell at bus drivers, but keeping my mouth shut was the hardest thing I had done all day.
I had to get off at the next stop, which meant that I ended up walking half a mile home anyway. And the guy who got off the bus with me?
“Hey. How you doin’?”
“Sir, you can fuck off.”
“Why you gotta be that way?”
“Because I am having a bad fucking day and you are just going to piss me off.”
By the time I got home, I pretty much hated everyone. Even myself.