Ridership Up!

I haven't owned a car in 3 years, and I'm feeling particularly smug about it because of exorbitant gas prices. But this smugness is faulty - I'll pay for gas in one way or another through higher food costs, fewer vacations, limited bus routes, and so on.

Nevertheless, I'm thrilled that high fuel costs are encouraging more and more people to hop on the bus or other public transit. According to the American Public Transportation Association, ridership has jumped significantly: "Last year 10.3 billion trips were taken on U.S. public transportation – the highest number of trips taken in fifty years. In the first quarter of 2008, public transportation continued to climb and rose by 3.4 percent." http://www.apta.com/media/releases/080626_applauds.cfm

Not A Bus I Want to Ride

Friday night I visited Pittsburgh's meatmarket, aka Carson Street. I've been to plenty of such districts in other cities, but I'm still taken aback by the ridiculous inebriation, surfeit of fake-baked skin, and trashy behavior. I have to admit that I was partly guilty, as I was wearing black fishnets, something completely appropriate to wear to school or church in Ukraine but no longer stylish in the States.

While on Carson, I finally met a bus that I truly never want to ride: the Pittsburgh Party Bus. I'd probably slip on tequila-laced vomit while walking down the aisle. Oddly, my friend said these buses are now considered outdated by the hippest party animals, who have eschewed buses and taken to renting dump trucks for bar hopping en masse.

White Privilege

In case you were able to ignore my photo, I am white. This once made me a target of teenagers on a Seattle bus.

I believe I was taking the 48 home from Beacon Hill one weekday afternoon. I was on what I call an "accordion bus," the one that looks like two buses with a stretchy bit in the center allowing it to swivel around corners. I was in the rear bus, and the only other riders back there were some teenage girls behind me.

I was minding my own business when I felt something land on me. It was one of the girls' jackets. I didn't know what to think, so I took it off, set it on the seat beside me, and kept minding my own business. The girls crept up behind me, retrieved the jacket, threw it at me again, and I did the same as before. At this point I felt foolish and annoyed, but far too stubborn to choose the obvious solution: take a seat in the front of the bus, as close to the driver as possible. This pattern continued a few more times. I don't remember how it ended, whether I got off or they got off. I do remember that I was the hot-cheeked target of some choice slurs plus the phrase "white girl." It was humiliating to be 25 or so and picked on by kids, but my AmeriCorps job wasn't too much different.

As I sat there dumbly, it struck me that I had no right to be angry. This was probably the first time that the phrase "white girl" had been used to describe me derogatorily; undoubtably, the girls behind me had been referred to derogatorily as "black girls" their entire lives. I thought of all the bus rides my ancestors had taken; I thought of all the bus rides their ancestors had taken, and what they had endured, never letting flush creep into their cheeks or irritation enter their eyes. My white privilege had protected me for years and years, and this one day wasn't worth complaining about. I was blessed to have this annoyance.

Driving in a car would never have allowed me this little reminder of my undeserved privilege. Thank you, buses, for exposing me to so many things. You are, like public schools, "the great equalizer."

Rolling Romance

Did any of you meet your love on a bus? How did you move from simply being on the same public vehicle to being romantically connected? Were you carrying a library book that you checked out with the sole purpose of impressing the hot individual who was on your bus every morning? Did that ploy work?

Again, I reference that Pacific Northwest rag, The Stranger. As many papers do, it runs a section of personal ads called "I Saw You" where readers try to connect with that special person who caught their eye. Many "I Saw Yous," I am pleased to say, happen on the bus! Here are a few recent Seattle standouts:

"Thanks to the skinny white guy in the red shirt that broke up the fight on the 71 on Father's Day. Sorry the bus driver acted semi-useless and you got the drunk guy's blood on your pants. Can I buy you a hero beer?"

"You: tall, lanky, attractive red head guy catching the 74 bus to downtown every weekday morning last summer from Ravenna. Me: the freckle-covered red head girl you made eye contact with and sat next to a few times, our legs touched and neither pulled away. I'm back in town and may be riding the 74 again, will you be there?"

You can't deny that's cute.

Wisdom from a Friendly Bus Driver, or Strange Things Done with a Chopstick

You'd think that being able to ride a bus doesn't take the intelligence of a nuclear physicist. But just in case you need help, here's advice from Erik Christensen, who has been driving Seattle buses for seven years. He recently delivered this advice to a group of elementary school students, as reported by The Stranger:

"Perennial lessons: Be nice. Have your fare money ready. When waiting at a bus stop, stand in a place that makes your desire to board the bus evident. Don't eat or fight or have loud cell-phone conversations or pop your ear zits with a chopstick while on the bus. (Also, Eric likes it when people are friendly and say hi. 'But I can only speak for myself on that one.')"


And, Instructor Wilson, in case you're reading, I'm not shamelessly stealing the Web content of others. I am at least attributing it to David Schmader, writer of the Last Days column in The Stranger, found at: http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/Content?oid=592337

Heat

In an earlier post, I questioned the icy bus temperatures.

Now that humidity and heat have arrived, I admit that the air-conditioning on the bus feels lovely.

But then sometimes I'm walking down the street and I feel a tremendous blast of warmth. I realize it's coming from a passing bus.

Are my 5 minutes of cool comfort worth that thick, melting exhaust?

Scissors, steak knife

Yesterday I dreamed I was on the bus with a murderer. He'd committed his murder a few days before, which I'd read about in the Pitt News, and was chatting about it with other riders. I kept wondering why he wasn't in jail, if everyone knew he was the murderer. Everyone was calm.

Then I realized I should probably get off the bus. I grabbed a girl near me and covered her and moved toward the door. We sat down, waiting for the next stop, trying to play it cool and failing. Then the murderer sat down next to me, started yelling at the other riders and doing other unmentionable things. I was terrified. Everyone was calm.

Eventually I got off the bus unharmed.

I dreamed about this because of an actual article in the Pitt News. The article said that an 18-year-old woman in Shadyside was stabbed to death with a pair of scissors Thursday. The man who admitted to killing her said "she insulted his body odor," according to the article. The young woman tried to defend herself with a steak knife when the man forced his way into her apartment.