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| | Riding Public Transit 101As you may or may not know, I am a public transit operator. For the
most part, I love my job. The routine is relatively diverse, so far as
jobs go anyway; I don’t have a shop foreman or office manager
constantly looking over my shoulder. I am the captain of my ship and
the passengers are my cargo. Generally speaking, the people who ride
the bus are friendly and unobtrusive—just regular city folk trying to
get to and from school or work as conveniently and economically as
possible. And then there are “the others”. Those on the margins of
society who are riding the bus for one basic reason—they don’t (or
can’t) own a car. And why is that? Why can’t someone own a car? One of
two reasons: They don’t have the mental, physical or financial
wherewithal to maintain one; or they are so fucked-up that no
reasonable judge, lawyer, doctor or social worker could possibly
concede that they are responsible enough to drive one. And what's their
alternative? Welcome to:
Riding Public Transit 101
If you are waiting at a bus stop that serves more than one bus route, and the bus that you are not waiting for approaches, take one giant step back from the bus stop while shaking your head, “no”. This simple gesture tells the bus driver that you do not want that particular bus, without the driver stopping the bus and opening the door while you stand there and stare at him or her—wasting everyone’s time except yours.
When you step into a bus, acknowledge the driver in some fashion, however slight. For example, you could make eye contact or nod or smile or simply say “hi”. The driver is not a vending machine or a cyborg—he or she is a human being and deserves the simplest social considerations, just like you.
If you are talking on your cell phone while boarding the bus, politely pause your conversation whilst paying your fare. The same applies if you are wearing headphones or ear-buds. The polite thing to do during any human transaction is to remove them briefly in the off chance that the person you are transacting with may actually have something to tell you.
If you require a transfer, politely ask for one while paying your
fare—don’t just stand there like a mental patient waiting for your
pills. Transfers aren’t door prizes—they don’t get handed out for just
any reason. And please don’t just point to the transfer holder—open
your mouth and say the words, “transfer please”. Unless you don’t speak
English, or are mentally retarded, it’s the least you can do.
If you do not have the exact fare, tell the driver! Don’t just throw a handful of pennies and nickels in the fare box and walk on by. Most drivers will let you ride for free if you don’t have the correct fare, but no driver likes to be duped. The fare box automatically counts the change, so you aren’t actually fooling anyone; you are simply setting yourself up for a potentially embarrassing scolding in front of the other passengers from a burly, 290-lb., bearded bus driver. And that’s just the female ones.
Once you board the bus, pick a seat and sit down as quickly as possible. The bus will be merging back into traffic within a few seconds, so unless you want to go reeling down the aisle like an epileptic at an exorcism, sit-the-fuck-down. No one wants to see that shit.
Before you leave your home, find out where you are going and how you will be getting there. Unless your destination has a large, neon arrow pointing to it, I probably don’t know where it is. I’m not your personal assistant, nor your chauffeur. I don’t work for MapQuest or the Yellowpages—I’m a bus driver. If you provide me with an address of where you are going, I will probably be able to get you to the bus stop nearest to it. I don’t know where “Reptiles-R-Us” is, and I don’t know which bus goes by “The Hungry Greek Diet Centre”. Do your homework before you leave your house!
If it’s past 11 p.m. and you are under the age of twenty, you shouldn’t be pushing a baby stroller. So unless you live alone, and you have been out to the clinic for an emergency methadone injection, the baby should be at home in bed. No one wants to listen to your crack-addicted baby scream while you wipe dried blood from your nose. Go the fuck home already!
The new, “low-floor” style of bus is designed to accommodate those mobility carts that you see so many people riding around in. Assuredly, they serve their purpose well, enabling seniors and the physically challenged to go about their lives as routinely as possible. However, unless you actually can’t walk more than a block, you shouldn’t be riding around in one—they aren’t go-carts. And the irony is, the more you insist on needlessly riding around in one, the more likely you will actually need one eventually. Get off your ass before it’s impossible to even have a choice.
When you ring the bell for your stop, please do so well in advance. A city bus is approximately thirty tons of glass and steel, flying down the road at speeds in excess of 30-50 mph, requiring at least 300-feet to stop safely. Keep in mind, it’s a bus, not a helicopter—the pilot can’t just “set ‘er down” because you were daydreaming.
If my sign reads, "OUT OF SERVICE" when I pass you at the bus stop,
please don't take it personally by flipping me the finger. Not every
bus that passes your stop is your bus, the same way that every
minivan that passes you isn't your mom.
Marty  | | | Posted 11/23/2007 6:06 PM - 11 comments
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