Yes, I figured out how many days I've worked over the last 3 years, and come to the conclusion that today's transit trip was the start of Day 572.
Every day is an adventure, though generally one anticipated with trepidation.
Today's journey started with a bus driver who decided that holding our commute up to have a conversation with his greasy friend who was exiting the bus was entirely acceptable. The Skytrain wasn't SO bad, but there really is a point where no more adult human beings can safely fit into the space available. Note, I'm not saying comfortably, because comfort is the last thing on anyone's mind as they jam in cheek to jowl because goodness knows THERE WILL NEVER BE ANOTHER TRAIN AGAIN!!! Wait, there's another one coming in 2 or 3 minutes? Screw that, I HAVE to be on this one! : p At least I assume that's what's going through the minds of the Transit zombies cramming themselves in next to me.
Production Station...ah what can I possibly say about the joyous wait for the 145 up the hill from Production Station that won't get me arrested? Hmm...it's...character building? I have witnessed so many feats of rudeness over the years, and yet it still amazes me on a daily basis. When you are at the back of a line that is hundreds of people deep, why is it acceptable to rush forward and shove yourself bodily into a gap that wouldn't fit a 2 year old at the back door of the bus? Not only are you not remotely important enough to negate the queuing protocol, but now the driver can't get the doors to close for the next 2 or 3 minutes, and by that point the next bus has pulled up behind it. Good job Einstein.
This morning's ride up the hill (I waited for the 3rd bus that came along, in order to get a seat) was everything I expected and more. That's not a positive thing.
The highlights of today's ride were the older woman who thunked her striped HBC bag down next to my head and grasped the post next to me for dear life, with her bag that's NOT a shoulder bag thrown across her body and onto my lap. I pushed it off my lap and she apologized. Then shoved it right back onto my lap. I eventually closed my eyes and pretended she wasn't there. Next to her was a charming young man who also thunked his bag down (why should anyone be forced to carry their own possessions when there's flat space available somewhere?? what was I thinking??), and proceeded to play air guitar against said bag. Now, air guitar is meant to be a silent thing...something that morons do on Transit along with their ipod...he clearly thought rubbing his bag was contributing to the music because that's what I got to listen to/observe all the way up the mountain. "scritch, scratch, scritchschritchscritchschrtchschraaaatch..." and on and on and on.
Here's hoping the ride home is less entertaining...?
No comments:
Post a Comment