The Bus
I ride it every day. I like walking home from work but at 8:00 in the morning, I'm not about to trudge 45 minutes to my office. That said, I rely on the bus to get me from point A to B, from home to school/work and back again. I am greatful to live in a city that is known for its excellent public transportation (well, for the size anyway) and the frequency at which the bus comes by.
Sometimes the bus smells, sometimes it really smells. I hear horror stories of New York and its public transportation, replete with bums urinating in the terminal corners and pick pockets making their daily take. We don't have either here in little Eugene, but we do have what other, larger cities do not - people not used to mass transport.
I have been to cities where people get public transport. San Francisco is such a place. When riding the BART, one does not have to worry about waiting behind someone who is fumbling through their personal affects because they were waiting in line and the BART somehow snuck up on them. In Eugene, this is all too common. In a typical day, my bus will move down 18th Avenue and at least four of the stops will be held up by people digging to find their buss pass/money/student ID. Now, I could understand if the bus were coming around a corner and was somehow out of sight until it was on top of these people. However, 18th is straight as a rail; a testament to the gridded street layout. Therefore, I don't see why people get all flustered and have to dig when the long-approaching bus has come to a full and complete stop and opened its doors.
"They" say mobile phones are the new phone. I am happy for this trend and I believe it to be one of those things technology is really good for - fast, reliable communication. Now add to this equation the typical narcissist abundant in our society (particularly when they have a fancy new mobile to show off to people they don't know). These are people so adept at loving themselves and everything they say that they can make you part of their lives without ever addressing you personally. I am speaking, of course, about phone conversations on the bus. I know every town's public transport experiences this annoyance so I'm not adding anything new, but nobody reads this blog anyway. My point is this - if you want to re-rout your husband to pick up Khrystinha from soccer practice after visiting your sick mother in Springfield but not before taking Sparky to get de-wormed and then going to Wal-Mart for pantyhoes and butter and on the way picking up tickets to the next Derka-Der Der country music show, I don't need to hear about it. Please keep in mind that I'm not talking about the narcissists I'm sitting next to. No, no, I'm talking about some lady way in the back. I don't feel as though I should have to get my ipod out and drown out Ms. Nasty, but I have little recourse in such circumstances.
Oh well. For all the bitching I could do about the bus, it gets me where I need to go. I just hope the smell washes out...
Sometimes the bus smells, sometimes it really smells. I hear horror stories of New York and its public transportation, replete with bums urinating in the terminal corners and pick pockets making their daily take. We don't have either here in little Eugene, but we do have what other, larger cities do not - people not used to mass transport.
I have been to cities where people get public transport. San Francisco is such a place. When riding the BART, one does not have to worry about waiting behind someone who is fumbling through their personal affects because they were waiting in line and the BART somehow snuck up on them. In Eugene, this is all too common. In a typical day, my bus will move down 18th Avenue and at least four of the stops will be held up by people digging to find their buss pass/money/student ID. Now, I could understand if the bus were coming around a corner and was somehow out of sight until it was on top of these people. However, 18th is straight as a rail; a testament to the gridded street layout. Therefore, I don't see why people get all flustered and have to dig when the long-approaching bus has come to a full and complete stop and opened its doors.
"They" say mobile phones are the new phone. I am happy for this trend and I believe it to be one of those things technology is really good for - fast, reliable communication. Now add to this equation the typical narcissist abundant in our society (particularly when they have a fancy new mobile to show off to people they don't know). These are people so adept at loving themselves and everything they say that they can make you part of their lives without ever addressing you personally. I am speaking, of course, about phone conversations on the bus. I know every town's public transport experiences this annoyance so I'm not adding anything new, but nobody reads this blog anyway. My point is this - if you want to re-rout your husband to pick up Khrystinha from soccer practice after visiting your sick mother in Springfield but not before taking Sparky to get de-wormed and then going to Wal-Mart for pantyhoes and butter and on the way picking up tickets to the next Derka-Der Der country music show, I don't need to hear about it. Please keep in mind that I'm not talking about the narcissists I'm sitting next to. No, no, I'm talking about some lady way in the back. I don't feel as though I should have to get my ipod out and drown out Ms. Nasty, but I have little recourse in such circumstances.
Oh well. For all the bitching I could do about the bus, it gets me where I need to go. I just hope the smell washes out...
posted by Infused Confusion at
10:23 AM
2 Comments:
"pantyhoes?"
I'm guessing that was a typo, but somewhere in there is a great joke about women from Springfield....
By
Copy Editor, At
5:05 PM
Women like the one you describe usually don't ride the bus. Her BigSUV must have been in the shop. What a horrible fate to not be able to run all those errands oneself, and to be stuck on a smelly bus with a bunch of (obviously depraved)people staring at you...
By
Anonymous, At
11:37 AM
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