I took the bus today. Four separate times, using two separate routes. I know, big whoop, right? Here’s the thing you need to know though: I am not really a bus person. Which probably sounds really snotty, as if I think I am too good for the bus. Which is actually not true. The truth is, as a directionally challenged person, I have always been scared of taking the bus.
Take for example, the first time I ever took a public bus- On my way home from my college internship, I started to get really suspicious about the route. Were we going the right way? I had no idea. Nothing looked familiar. But then again most of the time I was oblivious to my surroundings so how would I even know what was supposed to be familiar? I was too intimidated to ask the bus driver or any of the other riders (I know, I know. Someone shy must have invaded my body for the day). But when I saw the Fresh Pond Mall, I knew, I was at least 25 minutes from campus, I knew for a fact (probably) that this wasn’t on my route, and when I got up the nerve to ask the busdriver if we were heading toward Tufts, he looked at me gravely and shook his head slowly. I knew I had to get off the bus ASAP. Once inside the shelter of the mall, I took the only quarter I had, thanked God I had memorized the phone number of the apartment of four of my friends, three of whom had cars, and was lucky enough to find one of them home who was available and willing to come rescue me. While I waited, I found a really cute little black dress which, having spent my last twenty five cents’ worth of cash, I put on my credit card.
Since then, I got back on the horse and tried the bus again. During the summer between college and grad school, I had temp job as a receptionist at a downtown law firm. Instead of paying $9/day on gas, I took the bus. The 42 Hope Tunnel to be exact. This was the same bus my dad suggested I take nearly every time I asked for the car keys as a teenager. Every time I rolled my eyes as if to say “I wouldn’t be caught dead on the bus!” but in my mind I was like “I would not be caught dead accidentally getting on the wrong bus and/or having no idea where to get on/off!” And every time he would hand over the keys, shaking his head, muttering about how the bus was good enough for him when he was my age.
Despite the fact that I might or might not have once loudly, repeatedly chanted “The Bus Sucks!” I actually take the bus more frequently than I ever thought I would. Dan and I take the bus to the Denver almost whenever we go. This weekend was probably the third time we took the bus to the big city in as many months. As we approached our stop, I was like “Where are we? When are we getting off?” Dan gently, sweetly, assured me we were getting off at the same place we always get off. I also take the bus to work sometimes. I like this particular bus because it is very simple. It comes every 10 minutes and it only does two things: Goes north and then back south. It is fool-proof. Except for the time I forgot to look at the bus number, got on the bus, got into my book, and then realized the bus was taking me away from work and was totally on a different bus line by the time I looked up. I was kind of pissed that the SKIP was going the wrong way until I realized I was on the 206.
Anyway, today was my big bus day… I was reluctant to drive because it took me 90 minutes to drive 4 miles last night in the storm and I was not into dealing with slick, snowy roads again this morning. But I also had to run over to the DMV after work, and then make my 5pm hair appointment. How could I do it all without a car? As I fretted over my eggs, Dan found the perfect solution: the 208 bus. It would get me from work to the DMV
If I were a normal person this experience m
When I was a teenager I let my dad think it was because I was a total snot every time I was like “Can I take the car?” And he was always like “The 42 Hope Tunnel will get you to Thayer Street just fine. What’s wrong with the bus?” but then I would pout and be the total snot that I was and end up getting the car keys anyway.