My Neal Pollack post
After hearing continued complaints about the transit system (not enough routes, not enough buses, expensive, crowded buses), I decided that I would find out myself how the transit service is doing by riding the bus to do all my daily errands.
It was raining, so I drove to the nearest bus stop (2 blocks from where I live). I parked just steps away from the bus stop and made a mental note of how considerate it was for them to reserve and clearly mark the curb near the bus stop as being for the bus and its passengers.
The bus took a short while to arrive at the stop, but I figured that word must have been given to the driver that I was waiting at the stop and he had decided to allow the other passengers some time to be within my presence. Again, very considerate.
Once the bus did arrive, I decided that I did not want to be recognized and quickly sidestepped the woman in the wheelchair that was at the coinbox and took a seat on the first bench. It was nice to see that I was going to get a good seat for my bus ride.
The driver called back to me, obviously having recognized who I was. "Sir...," he yelled, pointing directly at the coinbox. I ignored him, hoping that he would realize I didn't want to be identified and deal with the regular onslaught of fans.
-"Sir!"
I reluctantly surrendered and went to the front of the bus to speak to the driver. I rummaged through my bag and took out the bus route map that I had expertly revised (a wonderful trip through surburban and city areas that visited all of my favourite stores and restaurants) and laid it out on the coinbox. The driver looked at it increduously (he recognized the genius in the revisions very quickly) and by the time I gave him some short explanations, he had his arms up in the air signalling to the heavens his thanks for his good luck.
It didn't take long before the other passengers vacated and left me sitting alone on the bus. I merit my route changes for getting them to their stops so quickly.
There isn't too much more I can say about the bus ride. The only annoying thing I encountered was caused by motorists on the road. Especially on the more narrow surburban streets, they would honk at the bus showing they had recognized me. I figure on the narrower streets the motorists were closer to the bus and could verify that they were actually seeing who they thought they were seeing. I gave a wink and nod to the lady drivers, and a too-cool half-salute/half-wave to the men.
Overall, the bus system isn't all that bad.
In his Anthology of American Literature, Neal Pollack describes how he brings great literature to the world; a saviour and hope to impoverished nations; intelligence, beauty, and culture to the American public; and great love and sex to women. I found it to be a hilarious read while the novelty lasted. Unfortunately, it doesn't last long enough to reach the last page, by which time hearing about all his gifted talents is tiring and old.
It was raining, so I drove to the nearest bus stop (2 blocks from where I live). I parked just steps away from the bus stop and made a mental note of how considerate it was for them to reserve and clearly mark the curb near the bus stop as being for the bus and its passengers.
The bus took a short while to arrive at the stop, but I figured that word must have been given to the driver that I was waiting at the stop and he had decided to allow the other passengers some time to be within my presence. Again, very considerate.
Once the bus did arrive, I decided that I did not want to be recognized and quickly sidestepped the woman in the wheelchair that was at the coinbox and took a seat on the first bench. It was nice to see that I was going to get a good seat for my bus ride.
The driver called back to me, obviously having recognized who I was. "Sir...," he yelled, pointing directly at the coinbox. I ignored him, hoping that he would realize I didn't want to be identified and deal with the regular onslaught of fans.
-"Sir!"
I reluctantly surrendered and went to the front of the bus to speak to the driver. I rummaged through my bag and took out the bus route map that I had expertly revised (a wonderful trip through surburban and city areas that visited all of my favourite stores and restaurants) and laid it out on the coinbox. The driver looked at it increduously (he recognized the genius in the revisions very quickly) and by the time I gave him some short explanations, he had his arms up in the air signalling to the heavens his thanks for his good luck.
It didn't take long before the other passengers vacated and left me sitting alone on the bus. I merit my route changes for getting them to their stops so quickly.
There isn't too much more I can say about the bus ride. The only annoying thing I encountered was caused by motorists on the road. Especially on the more narrow surburban streets, they would honk at the bus showing they had recognized me. I figure on the narrower streets the motorists were closer to the bus and could verify that they were actually seeing who they thought they were seeing. I gave a wink and nod to the lady drivers, and a too-cool half-salute/half-wave to the men.
Overall, the bus system isn't all that bad.
In his Anthology of American Literature, Neal Pollack describes how he brings great literature to the world; a saviour and hope to impoverished nations; intelligence, beauty, and culture to the American public; and great love and sex to women. I found it to be a hilarious read while the novelty lasted. Unfortunately, it doesn't last long enough to reach the last page, by which time hearing about all his gifted talents is tiring and old.
posted by Ryan at 10/24/2003 09:10:00 a.m.
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