I encountered this particular parking foul on MLK, somewhere between Judkins and Jackson:
Note to drivers: The only wheels that belong on sidewalks are those attached to wheelchairs, strollers, shopping carts, and the occasional skateboard or bicycle.
When it comes to waiting for the bus, I’m more than a little bit anal. I like to get to the stop early, have my pass ready (on “pay as you enter” rides, that is), my book out, and be standing right next to the sign by the time the bus arrives. (Yeah, yeah–just call me the driver’s pet.)
Bus Nerd’s approach to waiting is a bit (OK, a lot) different from mine. (I wrote about our differences in a recent Real Change column about riding styles.) He’d rather not waste time waiting at a stop, so he rushes out the door at the last minute — often just as the bus is arriving, occasionally after it has already passed. If you added up my daily 2-5 minutes and his occasional 15, we’d probably come out just about even.
Your turn. Where do you stand on standing (and sitting) at stops?
I didn’t award a Golden Transfer for February–not because there weren’t deserving candidates, but because I couldn’t make it to my computer on the last day of the month–so here’s a bit of good news that I think deserves recognition.
From Laura in Eastlake, a bike-riding bus chick (or should I say bus-riding bike chick?):
I want to share a positive Metro experience with you. Last week, from Saturday the 23rd through Friday the 29th, my sister visited me here in Seattle from Richmond, VA. In Richmond, the automobile is king and bus service is paltry, especially in the suburbs. Prior to her arrival, I gently reminded her that I am a bus/bike chick with the occasional Flex/ZipCar and this would require some patience and good humor on her part. After her heavy sigh, I crossed my fingers and hoped Metro would put on a good display.
Holy heck.
We rode buses all over the place and never once waited more than 5-10 minutes for the entire week. We nailed all the transfers effortlessly and buses were on schedule. It was the most freakish thing that has occurred to me in my 6+ years of riding Metro. From the airport on the 194, the Museum of Flight via the 174, 71/2/3 express buses to the U-District, 33 to Magnolia, 44 across the city, and many others, we maneuvered throughout Seattle effortlessly. It was a golden moment, one that I don’t expect to have replicated anytime soon, but I am glad it worked out for her visit. She is now “into” the concept of public transportation and I think that is a testament to the importance of a good, fluid, well-organized system. If it works smoothly, people may seriously consider replacing a good portion (if not all) of their driving with public transit. If my suburban transit-snob of a sister can be hooked by a week of good Metro service, well, anything is possible.
Good job, Laura (and Metro)! When I have out-of-town guests, I often feel I have to accommodate their transportation preferences by renting a car. How cool that you showed your sister the city buschick-style, and you both had a great time. (If she wasn’t put off by the 174, she definitely has latent bus chick tendencies.) Now maybe she’ll use her new transit enthusiasm to advocate for better options where she lives. Here’s hoping…
For better: The 48, where everybody knows your name
On Friday, Chicklet and I traveled to the Eastside (48 + 545) to meet Bus Nerd for lunch. My parental leave is quickly dwindling, and we’re trying to get in all the family bonding time we can. I digress.
The 48 ride was one of those cool trips where it feels like you know everyone on the bus. We ran into my friend Paulette, whom I met several years ago (through Bus Nerd) on the 3. Actually, I originally met Paulette many years earlier, when I was still a child, because, as we discovered upon our second meeting on the 3, she knew my dad. Again, I digress.
Paulette is a teacher and a student, and she was on her way to the UW to make copies of some old bound issues of Labor’s Heritage, to do research for a class about education for revolution, or the revolution of education, or some equally cool subject.
I didn’t catch all of the details about her class because in the middle of our conversation, Sarah B, a woman I went to high school with, sat down next to us. Sarah was also on her way to the U, no doubt to work on her dissertation, so she can go ahead and knock out that PhD in environmental anthropology.
We all got to talking–about the sunny weather, the origins of Chicklet’s name, and Paulette’s blog (about local eating) for the Splendid Table.
I got so caught up in conversation that Chicklet and I missed our stop and had to backtrack a couple of blocks (in the sunshine!) to Montlake Freeway Station to catch our transfer.
For worse: Freeway station interrogation
Just as Chicklet and I had settled in on the bench to await the trusty 545, a rather odd man (there were no obvious outward signs of his oddness, but I have very sensitive insanedar, honed from a lifetime of bus riding) sat down next to us.
Odd Man: “Have you seen the 265?”
Bus Chick: “I’ve only been here a few minutes, but I haven’t seen it.”
OM: “But what time is it supposed to get here?”
BC, gesturing toward the enormous sign to our left: “Schedule’s right there.”
OM: “Yeah, but it doesn’t have the 265 on it.”
Having no more help to offer the man, I turned back to Chicklet.
OM: “Is that your only child?”
BC: “Yep.”
And then, with absolutely no transition, he followed with one of my favorite questions:
“Are you half black?”
Of course I could have (possibly should have) shut him down at that point, but I’m a curious person (though apparently not as curious as some), and I wanted to see where his questions were leading.
BC: “Yes, I am.”
He continued to ask (How many siblings do you have? Are your parents still married?) and I continued to answer, until he started asking too many questions about my mother’s death, and I decided I’d had enough.
BC: “These questions are a bit personal, wouldn’t you say?”
OM: “Oh yeah. I bet I’m the only one who’s asked you this stuff, huh?”
Not by a long shot, buddy. Not by a long shot.
Finally, the 255, arrived, (not the bus he’d asked about but apparently the one he decided to take) and he got up. As he waited in line to board, he turned to me one last time.
“Say, is your husband black or white?”
On Tuesday night, I took the 14 home from the TAC meeting. The bus was packed with people, including several homeless people, who all got off at the same stop. The last woman to get off was in worse shape (both mentally and physically) than the rest and took almost five minutes to make it from the disabled section to the front of the bus. She stopped to stare at the floor, stopped to talk to herself, and, though she was barely able to move the cart she was pushing, became extremely agitated with anyone who tried to help her.
I can’t lie: My patience and compassion were in short supply. (I had things to do, after all, not the least of which was to inhale a whole handful of Excedrin as soon as I arrived home.) I huffed. I sighed. Near the end of her trip down the aisle, I had begun to roll my eyes.
After she had finally made her exit, the man across from me started joking with his friend about how badly she had smelled. The driver joined in.
“Now that I know,” she said, “I can refuse to transport her.”
At this, another woman–one who had attempted to help the homeless woman with her cart–jumped to the front of the bus and began to lecture the rest of us.
“It only takes two months to become homeless,” she shouted down the aisle. “It only takes a couple more to become depressed. We should be thanking God for what we have.”
The driver sucked her teeth: “I’d like to thank God for soap and water.”
***** *****
I am sensitive to the fact that this incident is a good example of the reason a lot of my own peers choose not to ride the bus. It’s not just about the sensory unpleasantness of being near people in dire circumstances, or being reminded of the desperation that we might otherwise prefer to ignore. The thing is, folks don’t necessarily have 30 minutes to get from downtown up the hill to the Central District.
As a person who rides city buses (Toto, we’re not on the 545 anymore) on a daily basis, I realize that time losses like these are balanced by time savings in other areas (never having to search for parking; bus-enabled multi-tasking; no oil changes, tire changes, scheduled maintenance, or fill-ups; etc.), but you can’t explain that to a bus-averse person who’s on his second ride. And while I strongly believe that Metro should work to attract the riders who have a choice, the agency, with its limited resources, also has an obligation to serve (and certainly no right to ridicule) elderly homeless women who need transportation to shelters.
So yet again, I am confronted with this question: How do we create a public transportation system that truly serves everyone?
I’m not sure I know. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
On Saturday, like many of our fellow Washingtonians, Bus Nerd and I attended our first caucus. It was Chicklet’s first caucus, too, but of course, pretty much everything she does is a first for her. I digress.
The caucus was held at T.T. Minor elementary, so we took the 48 (also known as my ride to everywhere) down to Union and walked the rest of the way there. (Note that we could have taken the 2 up the hill, had we been inclined to wait–or disinclined to walk.) The place was packed–with 100 people showing up just for our precinct, which is only one out of many in the district. I’m guessing there were a thousand people there.
I’ll spare you the details of the complete and utter chaos that ensued (we did manage to tally votes and elect delegates)–and my thoughts about how silly our electoral process is–and skip to the part about the bus: At least 10 people we had ridden the 48 with that afternoon participated in our precinct caucus, as well as many more people we had seen on buses around the neighborhood. We’d suspected our nearest neighbor of being a bus chick (more on the telltale signs in a future post), and it turns out we were right; she took the 48 to the caucus, too. One strikingly attractive middle-aged woman I’ve been seeing on the 27 for years (and sometimes on the 48, riding with a little boy I assume is her grandson), and on whom I have a little bus crush, was chosen to be one of our delegates. Now, I finally know her name, and I have an excuse to say hey (He-ey Georgiana!) if (when) I see her on a bus in the future.
Score one for the political process.
Today , I rode the bus alone for the first time since Chicklet was born. (Yes, I realize that this makes me a bit pathetic, considering that my child is 12 weeks old. What can I say? She’s cute.) I have left the house without her twice–once for my birthday dinner and once for my friend Donna‘s birthday party–but Bus Nerd was with me on both occasions.
Today, I traveled solo to attend the King County Transit Advisory Committee‘s annual retreat. I wouldn’t necessarily call an extra-long meeting in our regular meeting room a retreat, especially since the room doesn’t have heat on the weekends. But I digress. It was good to commune with my fellow transit geeks without the distraction of a baby (Chicklet attended the last meeting with me), and it was especially good to ride by myself. I didn’t realize how much I missed:
• Running for the bus–not so easy with an 11-pound human strapped to one’s chest.
• Using my bus legs, also not easy (or safe) with a baby strapped on.
• Reading! I used the short rides to (27) and from (14) downtown to make progress on Acacia, a novel I started way back at the end of October.
Come March, I’ll return to work and regular solo travels. Then I’ll surely miss these months of bus adventures with my miniature riding partner.
Yesterday, Bus Nerd and I celebrated our favorite holiday in our usual fashion: by busing to different events around the city. This year, Chicklet celebrated with us, and all went well (48 to Franklin for the annual rally and march, another Laura “Piece” Kelley sighting)–that is until we tried to catch the 8 from King Memorial Park, where the march ended, to the Center House, where the CD Forum was presenting a staged reading of “Our God is Marching On.”
Unfortunately, the 8 driver wasn’t feeling the holiday spirit. He drove past the sheltered stop (on Martin Luther King, Jr. Way, I might add), where the three of us (and two other riders) were waiting, without so much as tapping the brake.
“Maybe there’s another bus right behind him,” one of the other would-be passengers suggested.
Maybe not. We waited in the cold the 20+ minutes until the next 8 arrived, our attitudes growing more bitter as our fingers grew stiffer. We were even denied the satisfaction of complaining, as Metro’s rider information line was closed in observance of the holiday.
One of my favorite readers, Chris from Port Townsend, recently wrote to request a post about shopping on the bus. Fortunately, I’ve already written one. (Actually, it was originally a Real Change column, but I posted it here, too.)
For those who missed it last year, some tips on car-free shopping:
Ah, the holiday season: the time of year when we gather with family, give thanks for our blessings, and spend as much money as humanly possible. What better time to review my bus-chick-tested shopping tips?
Tip 1: Buy less. The simplest and most effective way to avoid the hassle of shopping without a car is to stop shopping so doggone much. Your decision to try life as a bus chick means you’re probably interested in conserving — your money, the world’s resources, or both — and spending less time at the mall will surely help you accomplish this.
Tip 2: Use a different kind of highway. If you don’t need a particular item immediately, consider ordering it online. If it’s a gift that has to be shipped, you save two trips: the first, to the store to buy the gift, and the second to the post office to mail it. In cases where you want to see an item before you buy it (or you don’t want to pay shipping costs), you can still use the Internet to research products and prices. That way, when you’re ready to buy, you’ll only have to make one stop.
Tip 3: Concentrate! The bus-based life is not well-suited to the “running around” that has become the norm in our consumer-oriented, car-centric culture. (And who says that’s a bad thing?) Shop in places that have a wide variety of stores concentrated in a small area, so you can take care of several purchases each time you make a trip. I tend to shop downtown, mostly because it’s the concentrated shopping area that is most easily accessible to me. And speaking of downtown…
Tip 4: Shop on your way. The next time you’re in the center of our fair city waiting for a transfer, try using that time to take care of business. When I’m downtown and in need of a particular item, I decide how much time I’ll need, check the schedule of the bus I’m waiting to catch, and then head to the nearest store that has what I need. If I’m not in the market for anything in particular but the wait between buses is especially long, I’ll use the down time “pre-shop” for stuff (greeting cards, vacuum-cleaner bags, printer cartridges — whatever I’m closest to) that I know I’ll need in the future.
Tip 5: Be Flexible. Most of the items people regularly shop for can be easily reached and carried home on the bus. (Note: If it’s big enough to take up a seat of its own, consider traveling during off-peak times.) For those times when you want to purchase an item that is outside the bus’s coverage area or that exceeds your carrying capacity (and the limits of your fellow riders’ patience), rent a Flexcar. For all you Craig’s Listers and garage salers: They even have pickups.
In this particular column, I was constrained by word count limits–and the fact that I happen to loathe shopping. Bus-riding shopaholics: Feel free to add your own tips here.
Last week, my Gail came to town to meet her new granddaughter. On Saturday morning before she returned home, the four of us (Bus Nerd, Bus Chicklet, my Gail, and me) headed to Hi Spot for brunch. Bus Nerd and I have taken the bus to Hi Spot at least a zillion times (4 + 3, 48 + 3, or short walk + 3) since we’ve been married. Unfortunately, Saturday was the first time we’d done it with an infant. Dealing with the baby in the sling, the diaper bag, and my Gail’s bus newbie status distracted Bus Nerd, and he somehow managed to drop his wallet on the 4. He realized it soon after we got off, but not soon enough to catch up to the bus.
I know from experience that losing something on the bus means waiting until the end of the day for it to be turned in to lost and found (assuming it gets turned in at all), and then waiting until the lost and found office is open to claim it. Losing a wallet is a bit more urgent than losing and umbrella or pair of gloves (my specialty), and I knew that Bus Nerd wouldn’t be able to enjoy brunch if he had to wait until Monday to find out if his wallet had been returned. So, being the resourceful bus chick I am, I suggested that he catch a cab and intercept the 4 while the wallet was still on it.
While my Gail, Chicklet, and I caught the 3 to the restaurant, Bus Nerd did just that. He called Metro from the cab, and a helpful rider information specialist kept him up to date on the 4’s progress (for once, the route’s excruciatingly slow pace was a benefit) while the cab driver gave chase. He caught up with the bus on Virginia. The driver remembered him and immediately handed him the wallet, which had been turned in by another passenger. Nothing was missing.
Wallet back in pocket, Bus Nerd took the cab to the restaurant where my Gail, Chicklet, and I were waiting, and we all enjoyed a stress-free meal. Props to the rider information specialist, the Good Samaritan passenger, and the cab and bus drivers, for making the end of this story a happy one.