Friday, July 9, 2010

Ridin' On the Buu-us.

I don't have a license. Even if I did, I wouldn't have a car to drive. My family isn't set up for two cars--we couldn't afford the gas, insurance, or even the purchasing of two cars. My city is pretty small, but I can't exactly walk everywhere. So when I can't get a ride from my Parental Unit or a friend, I have to take--

The Bus. Yes, I use a capital 'B' for that. I ride the city bus. Service starts at six fifteen Monday through Friday, and ends at five forty five. I know this sounds like a long time, but most of my friends start hanging out at about three, so we get about two hours to do whatever it is we're doing before having to ride the bus or hoof it home. The Buses do leave at fifteen after and fifteen 'til (kinda. I think about four times in my whole time riding the bus they've ever stuck to that schedule, and of course it was when MY Bus was running late so I missed my transfer) so you never really have to wait too long.

So you trek down to the nearest bus stop, which are sometimes in the *randomest* places, and wait. And you wait. And you wait. And then the glorious, glorious monstrosity arrives. You climb on, drop your fare in, get the tissue paper transfer...

Well, that actually takes a minute. See, even though about every third rider needs a transfer, they are never prepared. They have to fuss with the little booklet, slide it up, rip it off awkwardly so you either get a super long slip, or a tiny stub. Thankfully, all the drivers hate transfers and never even look at them.

So you go down to the transfer center downtown and duck and dodge past all the other people to get to your bus to get to your destination. Getting to your bus is probably the worst part of the adventure. There are people who slooooooo---oooooo----oooo-wly meander towards their bus. And they are typically dragging one of those wire carts of groceries, so you can't get past them. Or they are standing and chatting, ignoring you while blowing cigarette smoke in your face, or they are rushing like you.

But you find your bus, and you climb on, and give your transfer. And then you observe the old people falling asleep, the couple with the screaming baby (who is ALWAYS on the same bus as YOU) who sit three seats away from each other, screaming their marital issues for the whole bus to hear. They never get kicked off because the bus driver *also* enjoys the free entertainment.

But Meredith really needs to quit talking to Charlie behind Sam's back. Just sayin'.

There's the kid who is kicking seats and shouting and trying desperately to get Mom's attention. Finally--FINALLY you push the button to get off the bus and into the blinding sun or the blistering cold or the pouring rain.

I really hate riding on the bus sometimes. I hate that it runs late, and I hate the people on it, and I hate that the bus driver decided everyone under a certain age needs to start giving him their money so he can count it, which holds up the line, which makes everyone wonder why you don't have a student pass.

-.- I want a car.

No comments:

Post a Comment