Just Let Me Off the Bus.

It's been relentlessly sunny this week. We're having a bit of an Indian Summer, and while I should be relishing the weather, I'm stuck inside. Not only do I have a Medical Terminology AND a Human Biology test next week (which is a lab practical and a written test), I have bronchitis.

Joy.

Be that as it may, I still needed to go half way across town to pay a bill for She Who Must Be Kept. I decided not to bother with bugging a friend to take me, I didn't want to hang out at all, I just wanted to go and pay this bill. The bus is only a dollar anyway.

So I got on the bus, got downtown, and made my transfer. As soon as I got on, this bus driver was giving me withering looks. I don't know why. I've only ever ridden that route maybe twice? And neither time I had that driver. I don't think I've actually ever encountered her before, which is rare. I've ridden the bus for about eight years now, and most of the drivers know who I am. They don't know my name, but they know I go to the community college, I went to the high school on the college campus, and I sit and read for most of the ride, and say thank you when I get off.

So I got on, and when I saw my stop coming up, I hit the button. No buzzer went off, and the light didn't flash. Weird, huh? Especially because this was one of the NEWFANCYEXPENSIVEAREN'TYOUGLADYOUPASSEDTHATMILAGE?!?!?!? buses. Whatever, maybe I didn't press it hard enough.

Nope. It was broken. Something.

So I popped out my earbud. "Hey, do you think I could get off at the next stop, please?" I called. Raising my voice was difficult, and I am particularly hard to understand right now because of my hoarse voice and stuffed nose.

"WHY WOULD YOU ASK?!?" she turned and screamed. "You pressed the button! Why would you ask to get off at the next stop!?!? WHY?!?!?!"

...What? Seriously, what? I have no idea what the issue was here. The buzzer didn't go off, the light didn't flash. I just wanted to get off, pay my bill, and go home. I wasn't interested in causing problems. I asked to be let off, because I didn't feel like walking in the sun, which I am ALLERGIC to.

"Well, madam, I didn't hear the buzzer." I said stiffly. "But I will be SURE to let the bus station know about this."
"Good! I'll tell them too!"

Tell them what, I wonder? That she went postal because I asked to get off the fucking bus? I'm pretty sure if I hadn't asked, she wouldn't have zipped past my stop and if I ASKED then, she would have shouted at me to push the button.

I wrote out a complaint (after walking two miles) when I got back to the transfer center. I was told they only take their written complaints once a week. Because that makes sense? And I would get a call back.

I told She Who Must Be Kept too. I guess she's calling herself to discuss this attitude. I mean, I don't understand the issue. I asked to be let off the bus because it wasn't working. I don't know if the driver can see me or intends to let me off if the buzzer doesn't go off and the lights don't flash.

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.