|
Remember when you were a little kid, and you were waiting
for a parent to pick you up from some event, like a skating
party or something, and your parent was really late, and
you sat and watched your friends (with responsible parents)
leave one by one, until finally it was just you and a
(slightly annoyed) chaperone (“Are you sure you
told them 8:00, dear?”), and you convinced yourself
that your folks had either died or decided they were tired
of you and run off to Jamaica with the rest of your siblings?
If so, you know how I felt on a recent Tuesday evening,
as I sat at Montlake and waited and waited (and waited)
for the #48 to show. I waited over 30 minutes for a bus
that (theoretically, at least) comes every 15. While I
waited, I watched several buses pass, including a couple
of #43s (not unusual: the 43 is one of those buses you
always see too many of — unless, that is, you are
waiting for one), a #540, two #271s, several coaches headed
to East Base, and even the rarely sighted #25, before
my bus finally arrived.
Truth be told, I feel that “last one left at the
skating party” sense of panic and abandonment every
time the bus I am waiting for is more than five minutes
late. I pace. I check the schedule. I pace some more.
I squint to see farther down the street. I check the schedule
again. Then, I see large headlights in the distance, and
my heart soars. It’s coming...here it comes...nope!
A Brinks truck. Ryerson. A school bus. Yet another #36.
I consider calling Metro. Maybe there was a crazed gunman.
Or an explosion. Or an 87-car pile-up.
And then, finally, it arrives, packed full of all the
people who were waiting at the stops before mine. I am
relieved. I am elated. I am indignant. It’s all
I can do not to storm up the steps, poke my lip out, and
demand of the driver, “Where have you been?”
Of course, as during my skating-party days, I know better
than to do that. Buses are usually late due to traffic
conditions, and the last thing a harried driver needs
from me is an attitude. I do, however have a couple of
tactics that I employ to avoid this situation altogether.
I tend to choose a transfer point with more than one option.
For example, a stop where I can catch the #27, #4, #14,
or #3, all of which get me within walking distance of
home, is better than Montlake, where I can only catch
the 48. And I almost always take the first bus that will
get me close, even if a preferred route is coming soon.
I always say, “A bus in the hand….”
Got something to say about public transportation in Seattle?
Email Bus Chick at buschick@gmail.com, or visit www.buschick.com.
|
