I am rather grateful for public transit. This doesn't mean that I love it. Often I hate riding the buses and view them as the kind of necessary evil that we would reserve for old newspapers when we run out of toilet paper. We need public transit for getting around rather quickly when:
1. We don't have a car
2. We don't have a skateboard or roller blades
3. The weather is too crappy for walking
4. We need to get somewhere fast, but not too fast.
5. We have a sudden urge to suffer and experience humiliation.
As a teenager I declined to learn how to drive for these reasons:
1. I did not want to pollute the environment
2. I had a dread premonition of me dying and taking others with me in an accident
3. I instinctively knew that I would never be able to afford a car.
So, it's the loser cruiser. The bus. Squeezed and sandwiched in with the rest of the hoi poloi. It's not a death sentence. It gets me to where I need to go. It's mostly affordable, except...
When I was very poor, I couldn't afford public transit. I would be walking up to six miles or further to and from my underpaid job. It was great exercise. But by day's end I was always exhausted. It still kind of worked. I've always enjoyed walking. It's meditative and I can really observe, absorb, enjoy and learn about my environment. Certain walking routes have long stuck with me, taking me through the maximum number of parks and tranquil heritage neighbourhoods. Getting to know the exquisite architectural details on certain houses and buildings, looking forward to seeing them on every walk. Rather like saying hi to a friendly neighbour along the way. And trees, gardens, flowers, everything. I have often made friends with gentle neighbourhood cats and dogs along the way and it was always gratifying having these four-legged friends waiting for a pat and a friendly word and often expressing just the affection I might have been needing that day.
I can afford public transit again, and usually I have to take it. Not always. Every day I try to leave early enough to reserve time to walk part way, at least a mile, ideally three or longer.
It was difficult for me to adjust again to riding the buses. Before poverty hit really hard, we didn't have cell phones or smart phones. The buses were much quieter, and way more comfortable places to be on in those days. There were still annoyances, such as Asian women yelling directly behind me in Cantonese or Tagalog, but really, the little white bitches who scream in what sounds like English peppered with the F bomb are often worse. And don't get me started on some of their male counterparts. Seriously, I really had to work on my anxiety threshold for several years when I resumed, in 2004 or so, riding public transit on a regular basis.
I do try to position myself strategically. Usually I try to get the seat just in front of the back door, where I am least likely to be serenaded by some idiots' loud voices behind me in whatever language. I have since learned to be less anxious about the other seats as well, though, it only takes one loudmouth behind me and I have suddenly moved, even if it means having to stand the rest of the way.
It is rather odd being at that awkward age, middle age transitioning into senior citizen. It could be that there are some days when I just look awful and suddenly every person younger than thirty evacuates the courtesy seats when they see me coming on board. Other times I must look so robust and youthful that of course they're not going to stand up for me. Be that as it may, they are also as likely to be too fixated on their little tech toys to even notice that there are other beings that occupy the same universe.
I have learned to be assertive on transit. If I am schlepping with me a giant umbrella and a butt-heavy sack of groceries I simply announce something like: "Hey boys and girls, if you don't want me sitting on your lap, then someone here is going to give up their seat for me." I haven't yet said it that way, but give me time, I'm working up the courage. Neither am I shy about advocating for seniors and people with disabilities left standing, and it does give my sense of schadenfreud the most exquisite pleasure shaming certain young piles of useless DNA into giving up there seat for a frail little old lady or little old man. I've done it before, Gentle Reader, and I will do it again.
No comments:
Post a Comment