The Perils of Public Transit
I think one of the biggest changes for me living in the city is not having a vehicle. I have realized how much I passionately hate public transit! I have come to know all too well the feeling of standing and waiting for a bus, and having it fly right by because it is too full. Or having the doors open, and you stand there staring, because you know there is no way you are going to fit on, but you can’t bring yourself to just walk away. So you eye up the tiny slice of space that remains and try to calculate “if I squish my body in there, are the doors going to able to close? Or am I going to be left hanging halfway out?” If you actually do make it on the bus, there are many other problems to consider. Like: do I stand, or do I turn my body sideways and try to perch on the seat between those two creepy looking men?” I am ashamed to say that more and more I am choosing option two. You do desperate things when busing.
Or, if you do end up standing, what is the best place to hang on to give you optimum balance while you hurtle down the highway? This is much more important than you might realize. For instance, standing by either of the doors is most favorable because there are walls to lean against, which takes the strain off of your arms to keep yourself upright. However, these are coveted spaces and fill up quickly. Which leaves you with another choice: “do I hang onto the pole, or onto the handles which hang from the bars overhead?” Hanging onto the pole is very strenuous and has the added risk of falling into some unsuspecting person’s lap.
This led me to try out the handles. It was shame. Pure, unadulterated shame. As my body flew back and forth between the two handles I was clinging to, I couldn’t hold back the laughter. It wasn’t a good kind of laughter, but the desperate kind of a person who knows they are about to do something infinitely more humiliating. In my desperation, a faint ray of hope pierced my mind: maybe when the bus came to a stop at the corner I could quickly switch from the handles to the pole. It at least offered some form of stability. The bus pulled up to a red light and I made my move. Unfortunately for me, the bus also moved. And I went straight backwards. Now, you would think, as packed in as you normally are on the bus, that some kind soul would reach out and grab you if/when you fall. They don’t. They stand and watch. I can’t say that I blame them entirely though. After all, I have experienced first-hand what happens when you release your grip for even a moment, and I can’t say that I would do it for anyone else.
Despite the traumas that I have endured as a result of public transit, I am surviving city life, though I can’t say the same for my dignity.
