The long lunches, sans car

Dear Instructor Wilson,

You often mention "the long lunches" in class, and sometimes you add "house on the hill." Once you looked at me and added something about owning a car. I certainly wouldn't mind long lunches and a house on a hill (an urban hill), but I never want to own a car again.

Here is my incomplete list of reasons against car ownership:

Walking or biking increases awareness of my community. I see the seasons change, my neighbors change, and buildings rising up or being torn down. A car blends all these details into a blur. Buses can, too, except they are usually so plodding that you notice surroundings.

I save a busload of money. I don't pay for gas, maintenance, parking or insurance. This saves me thousands of dollars a year.

I decrease the burdens on the state. The less I drive on the state's roads, the less maintenance is required on those roads.

I reduce our country's dependence on foreign oil, thus reducing potential for armed conflict with oil-producing states.

I pollute less.

By taking the bus or walking the streets, I am in confined spaces with people I wouldn't normally come into contact with: more older people, more babies, more disabled folks, more folks of color, more speakers of foreign languages, more folks struggling to earn a living. This is an essential reminder of my privilege.

I feel GOOD. Driving stresses me out and forces me to be aggressive in order to protect myself. By the time I get to my destination, I am not in the ideal mental state. Additionally, more walking makes me feel even better.

I learn to wait and be patient. I remember to step aside.

I swear I am not a hippie, but I feel strongly about all of these things. I don't expect anyone else to agree with me or to give up their cars.

Your student,
Rita

For a very important date

The buses have been late recently, at least at my intersection. My classmate and I were even 5 minutes late to Instructor Wilson's midterm because of it.

The good news is that nearly every single PAT driver I encounter is wonderful. They are friendly, smile sometimes, and stop to pick me up when I'm running wildly to the bus stop.

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