Wednesday, April 25, 2012

I sat down to wait for a bus.  Soon, a man joined me at the bus stop, and immediately said, loudly, "I hate this bus."

I made a small, word-free sound of acknowledgement, and thought, "Urban nut."

Then I remembered that I used to used that bus line a lot, when I had friends who lived on it.  When I used the line a lot, I felt just like that.

It's very long between buses.  I felt like I never got a break, but always had to wait for almost the whole time between busses.  It felt like the bus line itself enjoyed making us all wait impatiently.  Speaking of urban nut.

But different lines do feel like they have personalities, independent of the drivers or riders.  The 30 Stockton, when I used it a lot, felt like a bunch of puppies to me, because there would be a long pause between buses, and then several.  I thought busses were like puppies who couldn't imagine being apart from each other.  I didn't really get mad at its spottiness because puppies can't really help themselves.

The bus line that the man shouted that he hated felt to me like it was maniacally laughing at the waiting riders, when I was a person often waiting for it.

Urban nut being,  perhaps, someone with different experiences than me, or even the same experiences that I haven't remembered lately.