Tag Archives: hated it!

MLK Day, ’08 (or, Maybe Chicklet looked suspicious)

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.

The ultimate bus foul, part II

I guess I have an answer to my question about whether bus riders in Seattle ever get groped.

Seattle police are searching for man who has sexually assaulted at least four women near bus stops in South Seattle.

The assailant sneaked up behind the women and forcefully groped them, starting with two women Nov. 20. The latest and most threatening attack was reported early Wednesday, when the man dragged the victim into a dark driveway, fondled her and took her wallet, police said.

(Source: Seattle PI)

Wow. And I always liked riding the 36…

Dear Bus Chick…

OK, so I don’t have an advice column, but after reading today’s installment of Prudie in Slate, I’m considering starting one. I’m so not feelin’ her advice on this:

Dear Prudie,

My sister-in-law and I ride the same bus to work. It’s a 30- to 40-minute ride, and we like to spend it catching up with each other. About half my time is spent traveling for work, so when I’m in town, we enjoy catching up on the latest family news and my travel adventures. Some mornings, people complain that we’re talking on the bus. In fact, some people groan when they see us coming. We try to be pretty quiet when we talk and we don’t use profanity or talk about things that could be offensive (sex, drugs, etc). However, the atmosphere on the bus is like someone died, complete silence! We have pretty tough skins but I would like some ideas on how to keep the peace on the bus.

–Bus Stop

Dear Bus,
Groaning at the sight of you two is rude, but it’s understandable that people hoping for a bubble of silence between family life and the work day look on you happy in-laws with dread, knowing that for the next 40 minutes they’ll get to hear about Aunt Edna’s goiter and that great Thai place you found in Akron. I’m sure you two think you’re being quiet, but animated conversations tend to be voluble. If the bus isn’t full, could you both sit in the back and really make an effort to speak sotto voce? If that doesn’t work, could you spend the first 10 minutes catching up, plan to meet for lunch during the week so you can talk, then spend the rest of your ride doing the crossword? It is public transportation, and you two are entitled to conduct a conversation, but my heart is with the commuters who prefer a moving sarcophagus to a family reunion.

–Prudie

My version:

Dear Bus,

There is no requirement for silence on any form of public transportation. Chatting with friends (and even strangers) is a perfectly acceptable way to pass the time on your rides. (Shoot, the guy behind me on my evening 48 passed the time by chatting with himself. But I digress.) It’s true that some bus riders like to use their commutes to read, nap, or catch up on work, so it’s certainly good manners to keep your voice down; however, there is absolutely no reason to shorten or otherwise constrain (unless you’re sharing TMI, which is a major bus foul) your conversations.

To those commuters who still find themselves distracted by your chatter, I recommend: headphones, earplugs, or improving those all-important tuning-out skills. (These skills are not rare; anyone with a mother, a spouse, or children–or who has attempted to cram for exams in an undergraduate library–has them.) If, none of these options is effective, they should learn to take more interest in other folks’ business. For me, eavesdropping rivals reading as one of the great joys of the ride.

– Bus Chick

Your turn. Should this woman and her sister-in-law zip it for the benefit of their anal–ahem!–silence-loving fellow riders?

Transportation safety, part II

Way back in July (the 14th, to be exact), I witnessed a disturbing accident while traveling downtown on my beloved 27. I happened to be sitting in a window seat on the same side as the door, so I had a good view of the boardings. At 20th & Yesler, I watched as the driver lowered the ramp for a dapper, fedora-wearing older man in a fancy, electric wheelchair–the kind with shocks and a cushioned, contoured seat with armrests.

Like countless wheelchair passengers before him, the man maneuvered his chair into the correct position and began rolling up the ramp. Unlike countless wheelchair passengers before him, he didn’t make it all the way. Before his back wheels had even reached the incline, the man’s chair suddenly flipped, sending him crashing, back-first, onto the pavement.

Most of the passengers (me included) gasped and then froze, but two good Samaritans jumped out of their seats to help him. Some of the accessories (the wheel covers, for example) had come off of his chair, so it took them a few minutes to get him recombobulated and on the bus. During those minutes, they asked several times if he was OK, but he wasn’t able to do much more than nod.

The bus driver, who had, surprisingly, stayed in his seat (I vaguely remember learning in my bus driver class that they’re required to do this), called in on his radio to report the incident. The person he talked to must have said it was OK to move on, because he pulled away from the stop as soon as the man was buckled in. This I also found surprising, since most bus “incidents” I’ve witnessed (usually falls involving rainy weather and slippery aisles) have caused long delays: interviews, form signing, visits from trained medics and Metro personnel, etc.

In this case, there was no delay, even though it wasn’t clear that the victim was OK. It seemed to me that he should be taken to a hospital and observed for signs of a serious head injury, or at the very least, escorted to his destination. I stayed silent, though, worrying and wondering but doing nothing.

The man got off at Broadway. I was somewhat reassured when, on his way down the ramp, he said to the driver, “Next time, I’ll put it in low gear.”

He wasn’t hurt too badly to tell a joke. Still, I worried about him for the rest of the day, and I’ve thought about him many times since–namely, every time someone boards one of my buses using the wheelchair ramp. (Since I have no idea what caused the accident in July–Was the man’s chair defective? Did he operate it incorrectly? Did the driver lower the ramp in an unsafe location?–I have no way of predicting how likely I am to witness another.)

Today, again on the 27 (headed east this time), and again sitting in a door-side window seat, I saw the same man, in his same fancy chair, wearing the same fedora, waiting in front of some senior apartments at the edge of downtown. As the driver lowered the ramp to let him on, my stomach clenched with anxiety (or maybe it was just Bus Baby stomping on one of my vital organs). Apparently, his did, too. He grabbed his fedora with his free hand and leaned forward as far as he could before easing sloooooowly up the incline. This time, he made it just fine.

I’m pretty sure he was in low gear.

No shelter (or, “Dude, where’s my bus stop?”)

This morning, I walked out of my house to discover that the two bus shelters on my corner had been removed.

These were no ordinary shelters. They were spacious and attractive, with wood carvings that told the story of the community on their walls. And bus riders actually used them. A lot.

Here’s what one of them used to look like:

My friend Monique (aka Original Glamazon), waiting for the 27

So, the question is, why did Metro remove them? Are they being replaced? The last I heard, we were trying to get more shelters in King County. Why waste money replacing shelters that are perfectly functional, even pleasant? Are they being removed permanently? If so, why? At the very least, we should have seen a “rider alert” message at the stops and/or on Metro’s website.

As if the trash-can removal at our adopted stop wasn’t bad enough. What’s the deal, Metro?

They weren’t THAT scary

Remember that empty lot I told you about a few months ago? The one I walk through to get from the 545 stop to my office? (Yes, I still walk through it; my fear of geese was quickly overcome by my need for convenience.) Geese aren’t the only animals that live there. The part of the lot that’s not paved is a sort of swampy wetland, with tall grass and a good half acre of deciduous trees, and it’s home to rabbits, frogs, and lots of (less intimidating) species of birds. During the wet times of year, the ditch at the edge of the trees becomes a small pond, and in the evenings, you can hear the frogs singing their hearts out–so loudly they can be heard above the traffic noise that surrounds them.

Recently, my employer bought this empty lot. (It was only a matter of time, really.) For a few weeks, it was fenced off and filled with construction workers and equipment (complicating many bus riders’ walks to work). The ditch/pond was dug up and covered with a layer of greenish sod.

I learned last week that the lot will be used for “overflow” parking. My coworkers have tired of waiting for the company-paid valets to find spaces for their cars in the crowded garages.

So much for the geese. And the frogs.

Hands on the wheel, eyes on the road (please!), part II

Congratulations, Shannon! Last night, we left work early to attend Bus Nerd’s Godson Shannon’s graduation from Ingraham (545 + 41+ 346). Thanks to Friday evening traffic, we were running late, so late that we were afraid we were going to miss Shannon’s walk. Fortunately, two young men who rode the 346 with us were also late to the graduation. They used their Sidekick to keep in touch with their graduate, and I used my eavesdropping skills to figure out just how much we had missed. (“She says it’s hella crowded–oh, the principal just gave his speech.”) Thank goodness for modern technology (and teenage texting trife).

Unfortunately, the young men with the Sidekick weren’t the only folks making use of handheld devices. Our 346 driver spiced up the ride by driving one-handed while chatting on his cellie.

Come on, man. If you’re going to go there, at least get a headset.

Beyond bad manners

Like most bus chicks, I’ve seen my share of PDAs. But never, in all my years riding Metro, have I seen anything like what Last Days Hot Tipper Dale witnessed on the 43 earlier this month. (Warning: The content of this column isn’t exactly family friendly–though I’m guessing most seasoned bus chicks can handle it. If you no like, blame my friend Tama, who sent it to me.)

I’m generally a “live and let live” kind of bus chick (bus fouls don’t usually elicit more than an eye roll), but this is no mere foul. If I were Dale, I would have (not-so-politely) asked these guys to take their amorous activities elsewhere. Yeesh.

A more appropriate form of bus luh

Devil on the 2 bus

Today, after church, I hopped on the 2 and took a free, Earth Day ride downtown to meet my friend Aileen. Because it was early afternoon on a Sunday, many of my fellow riders–identifiable by their Bibles, fancy outfits, and “What did you think of Pastor So-and-so’s sermon?” conversations–were also coming from church.

One older gentleman sitting in the front section, who apparently wasn’t finished with his worship, decided to bring church to the bus. (He’s certainly not the first.) He sang songs, lectured everyone within earshot about Jesus (“Be thankful he woke you up this mornin’!”), and occasionally, demanded an “amen” from someone nearby. Some of the churchgoers joined in; most of the passengers did their best to ignore him.

I didn’t hear the bus driver ask Church Man to keep his singing and preaching to himself, but he must have, because about five minutes into the ride, Church Man started peppering his praise with, “I just can’t stop–can’t stop talking about Jesus.” Somewhere around Broadway, the driver stopped the bus and walked to Church Man’s seat, hands on hips, brow furrowed in exasperation. Without waiting to be asked, Church Man got up to leave. “You kicking me off?” he said. “That’s OK. They kicked Jesus off.”

Before the doors had even closed behind the enthusiastic worshipper, the outrage from the other passengers began.

“It’s none of my business driver, but why did you just kick that man off the bus?”
“Ooh! Did he just kick that man off the bus for singing about the Lord?”
“The devil’s on this bus.”
And, my favorite: “That’s the devil. I don’t give a sh*t what anybody says. That’s the devil.”

It was a ganging up I haven’t seen the likes of since about a year ago, when (also on the 2), the entire front section shamed a woman for talking on her cell phone. She was scheduling surgery. But I digress.

The frustrated driver didn’t handle the criticism well. He yelled back at the angry passengers, threatening to kick them off, too, and suggesting they refrain from critiquing his job performance. Their anger escalated.

“Just drive the bus, man,” they said. “Mind your business and drive the bus.”

A sarcastic “God bless you driver!” occasionally erupted from the crowd, often followed by a, “He’d better hope he doesn’t meet Jesus.”

Thankfully, I got off before they started pummeling him with their Bibles.