Category Archives: transit culture

And speaking of unique bus stops…

In the process of excavating my inbox (which I ignored for most of the month of January), I found a gem: a series of photographs of Soviet-era roadside bus stops–in Russia, I think–sent to me about three weeks ago by Sound Transit Andrew.

While many of us are aware of the elaborate splendor of the Moscow underground, it is easy to overlook the phenomenon of the common roadside bus stop as an example of soviet art and design letting loose and becoming a little weird and crazy.

They “let loose” alright. The stops are all pretty insane. They’re also really, really isolated. There’s a horse hanging out at one. Seriously.

I wonder what the maximum walking distance is for their trip planners.

The good book(s)

My new friend Jeffrey, aka “Bus Man,” the same man who is responsible for Busfather‘s brief but memorable visit to my house, recently gave me these:

A bus chick's page turner
My favorite is the one on the left. Betcha can’t guess why.

Transit operating handbooks, baby! Soon, I will know everything there is to know about Metro routes, rules, and regulations.

Jeffrey, you’ve created a monster.

There’s something about a man in uniform (who doesn’t carry a weapon)

Lately, I’ve noticed a marked increase in a certain kind of driver-passenger interaction. It started on a Saturday in December, on the 48 ride home from an open house (in Ballard, of course) for my friend Rachel’s jewelry business. An attractive, middle-aged woman (well, maybe not middle aged, but far too old to be as drunk as she was at 3:00 in the afternoon) got on a couple of stops after me–near the beginning of the route. The driver, who had been distinctly sullen to the rest of us, perked up when she chose the seat closest to him, and immediately started chatting her up. From what I could tell, he didn’t get the digits, but before we’d reached her stop (somewhere around 85th & Greenwood), she’d told him most of her life story, and they’d set a date to meet up at the Drift on Inn for dancing and conversation the following Thursday night. (Not bad. The bus chick pick-up artist could take a lesson.)

Since then, I’ve witnessed three blatant driver-on-passenger bus macks: one on the 55, one of the 4, and one on another 48. In two of the cases, the passengers seemed receptive, but no actual dates were set. In all three cases, the drivers were men and the passengers were women.

I got hit on by a 48 driver (What’s the deal with the 48?) a few years ago–the man actually left his seat to come talk to me–but I didn’t think it was common until now. Anyone else witnessed or participated in a driver-passenger (or passenger-driver) mack situation?

Thanks for the ride!

I have this thing: I can’t get off a bus without thanking the driver. I started doing it when I was little (my parents were big on manners), and it just stuck. By now, it’s a reflex. I say it if the driver is rude or reckless, if he or she is too busy or too preoccupied to hear me, even if I get off the back door (in that case, I yell it). Other riders say it doesn’t even cross their minds. Why thank someone for doing her job?

What do you think?

Riders: Are you “thankers”?

Drivers (if there are any out there): Do you appreciate it when riders thank you, or do you get tired of saying, “You’re welcome” to overly polite Seattleites all day?

Frequently asked questions

One of the best things about riding the bus is that you get to talk to strangers. In my years as a full-time bus chick, I have gotten to know the people I share this city with in a way that would simply not have been possible from the isolated bubble of a car.

One of the worst things about riding the bus is that you get to talk to strangers. Strangers are often annoying, or pushy, or rude. Sometimes, strangers are nosy. Several times a week, I am asked one of the following questions:

Where are you from? [Seattle] No, I mean where are your parents from? [Seattle and Pittsburgh]
What’s your nationality? [American]
What’s your background? [Let’s see…I majored in English…]
What’s your last name? [Saulter]
You Creole or something? [Nope. I’m a fan of New Orleans, if that counts.]
Habla espanol? [Si, un poquito]
And the most popular: What are you? [A daughter, a sister, a friend, a writer, a human, a carbon-based life form…]

All those folks should have taken lessons in directness from the man I sat next to on the 4 today (P.S. – Smooth Jazz was driving). Before my butt had fully hit the seat, he asked, “Are you black or white?”

The answer, for him, and for all others I might encounter on a bus in the future, is: both.

Too sexy for my car

Picture
Woman Seems Too Hot to Be Riding Bus (from The Onion)

Let’s face it, folks: The bus has a reputation as a less-than-sexy form of transportation. One of the biggest reasons for this is our culture’s longstanding tradition of associating cars with sex. We are constantly bombarded with images of partially clothed women spread-eagled on hoods (for now, let’s leave aside my many other issues with this type of marketing). People (especially men) buy nice cars to get dates. Couples take romantic drives into the country. Teenagers drive to a view point and “park.”

While I will admit to a definite weakness for candy paint and big wheels (blame it on my years in Houston: What You Know About Switchin’ Lanes on the Wood Grain?), I don’t see anything sexy about crashes, traffic, noise, pollution, overconsumption, or isolation.

The bus, on the other hand, has plenty to recommend it. People who ride frequently tend to have firm glutes from all the extra walking (don’t sleep on those downtown hills). College students ride buses (try the 48, 13, or 3) and so do many of those big, strong fish-throwers at the Market. Back in the day, lucky bus riders in the Bronx rubbed elbows with Jennifer Lopez. Buses are great places to meet people (I should know–I met Bus Nerd on the 545) and, apparently, good places for couples to share quality time. And really, what’s sexier than having a driver?

Because so few people know that riding the bus is sexier than driving, I’ve decided to embark on a campaign to change Metro’s image. Sexy bus chicks and bus boys in Seattle, I’m going to need your help. This summer, let’s follow in the footsteps of our feminist sisters and get some baby-doll/muscle t-shirts with slogans like, “This is What a Bus Rider Looks Like.” Let’s require people to ride the bus to all of the fabulous parties we throw. Let’s get The Stranger to add “sexiest Metro driver” to its annual “Seattle’s Sexiest” issue. Who’s with me?

I’m confident that my campaign will increase ridership, but I’m worried that it might become too successful. I don’t want to start seeing “Bikini Babes on Buses” at my local newsstand.

Friday was a 234

This week was a week of obsession with numbers. I think it had something to do with the release of Prince’s 3121, which I am listening to as I type. I apologize to my neighbors for the liberties I have taken with the volume control on my computer speakers.

But I digress.

I have taken to keeping track of all the buses I ride in a day and (for reasons I cannot fully explain) adding up the numbers. I assign the final sum to the day–a sort of reverse numerology. A higher number usually means that it was a fairly busy bus day, but not necessarily. Suburban routes are three-digit numbers, so they add up quickly. In the days when I worked in Redmond, it would have been possible for me to ride to work and back only and still “earn” a 1090. Yesterday, on the other hand, I ran around from morning to night and earned a paltry 234. Here’s how I did it:

8
43
55
55
14
3
26
26
4

I also did a fair amount of walking. Which reminds me: So far, today’s been a zero. On sunny days when I don’t have to go to work or anyplace in particular, I like to rely on my feet.