February 22, 2006

Bus Chick, Transit Authority
Bussin’ it in the Motor City

by Carla Saulter

Earlier this month, I traveled to Detroit for Super Bowl XL. My fiancé, Adam, is from “The D,” as he lovingly calls it, and we planned the trip long before we knew the Seahawks would be playing. Though we did not attend the game, we proudly represented Seattle at the associated festivities.

One of the best things about Detroit is its people. Negative stereotypes aside, I have not met friendlier folk anywhere on the planet. Detroit is a place where you can have conversations with strangers — not the kind where you mumble something like, “Nice weather” and then pretend to be checking a missed call on your cell phone, but real exchanges that leave you feeling like you’ve made a new friend.

One of the worst things about Detroit is its public transportation. Despite the fact that a third of the city’s residents do not have access to a car, automobiles reign supreme (they don’t call it the Motor City for nothing), and the bus system is virtually unusable. Bus stops do not have schedules or maps or benches, or even signs that list the routes that stop there. If you manage to find a schedule, don’t count on your bus showing up at the stated time, and don’t count on it stopping unless you stand on the curb and flag it down like a taxi.

Luckily, the friendliness of Detroit’s people provides an often overlooked amenity: frequent bus-wide discussions. Regular bus riders know of what I speak. It usually starts with someone holding court near the front of the bus, talking to a few people seated nearby. Soon, someone a few seats back chimes in with an opinion, and before you know it, even the bus driver is involved.

Though there was a lot of talk about football on this visit, my favorite bus-wide discussion was on the route we took from downtown to my future father-in-law’s house. We got on mid-conversation, when a few men seated behind the driver were debating the merits of California as a place to live. (I’d been explaining for several days where, exactly, Seattle was, and so was heartened when one man mentioned Oregon and Washington as lovely alternatives).

A few stops down Grand River, a middle-aged woman climbed aboard, full of opinions about Saddam Hussein’s trial. The conversation shifted to politics, and Adam, never one to shy away from a friendly debate, eventually offered his two cents. I remained silent, preferring, as always, my role as the Invisible Bus Chick.

Though I rarely participate in bus-wide discussions, they are a large part of the reason I prefer public transportation. I am always moved by the ease of conversation, the knowledge that is exchanged, and most of all, by the spontaneous sense of community that develops among strangers with perhaps nothing more in common than the shared ride. I could never trade that for easier access to the mall. n