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I Rode the Bus!

The other day I dropped the family car off at the mechanic's shop. Normally, I would walk to the nearest food/coffee/internet café and do some work until the automotive work was completed. On that occasion however, I needed to go home.

I considered walking the five or so miles, perhaps breaking it up with a stop for brunch, but elected instead to take the bus. Now, I do not approve of government programs that intrude on the market at huge costs to taxpayers, and the bus system is certainly one of those, but it had been so long since I had ridden the bus that I found myself excited at the prospect. The fact that a nearby route would take me – without the need of a transfer – to where I wanted to go, with only a half mile walk on each end, sealed the deal.

As luck would have it, the bus arrived shortly before me, and after a quick sprint I was boarding. I saw that the fare was up to one dollar. My intent was to pay triple the fare since fares only cover about thirty per cent of the operating costs - I appreciated the service, but did not feel the need to accept charity. I was a little startled by the driver who was so friendly and cordial as to be chatty. I realized that my attempting to shove three one dollar bills into the machine would not escape his watchful eye, and there would be no way of explaining my behavior without appearing the cad, so I stopped at one for the sake of us both.

I looked around after taking my seat, and noticed that things had changed a lot since my last bus ride, yet it seemed somehow familiar. A tier of seats in the rear was elevated. There was a large bulge near the front with a handrail on top, the purpose of which was not readily apparent. On the floor were some casters with restraints made of metal hooks and nylon webbing – I thought that they might have been left there by someone attending a fetish convention, but upon closer inspection I discovered that they were anchors for wheelchairs.

After a while, it dawned on me: the bus was becoming like the airport, and vice versa! That was what I found familiar. I was sitting alone in a field of institutional seats amid a bunch of unhappy people who would rather be elsewhere, but seemed somehow resigned to the current situation. There was even an emergency escape hatch in the ceiling, and a public address system providing current information…"Fort Lowell and Alvernon"…"Now arriving, Flight 123 from Los Angeles, Mexico City, and Damascus"…"Stop Requested"…"Mohammed Atta, please pick up the white courtesy phone."

There was much signage, but it was less commercial than that of the airport. In fact, it was mostly government directions, with a few ads for non-profits. There were many "No Smoking, It's the Law," "No Food or Drink," "No Four Letter Words," and "Keep Your Cell Phone Conversations Private." Have people become so rude that they must be instructed not to swear in public? The seats under the "Please Reserve These Seats for the Disabled and the Elderly" sign were the favorites of the young and fit.

I suppose that I should not be surprised that busses and airports have grown to be so similar. In both cases, you have a government, or quasi-government, entity involved in transporting people as if they were cattle. >From holding pen to holding pen, through chutes, they move masses of people. If they are good, they will treat the cattle nicely so they won't spook.

You may have gathered that I am a big fan of point-to-point transportation on demand – that's why I like bicycles and automobiles. There is nothing like moving about freely, under one's own direction, untamed. It is something that we as Americans enjoy… at least until the Transportation Safety Administration (TSA) extends its operations to street corners and highways.

"You may have gathered that I am a big fan of point-to-point transportation on demand – that's why I like bicycles and automobiles."