let GO

"Please let go of my bike", I finally said after the guy attempting to be helpful became annoying.

And before you say anything, I'm aware of the "just being nice" defense. Because, it's not that. I like people to be nice. I think it's nice when someone asks if I'd like a hand and gives me a choice. What I do not like is the help that is thrown at me rendering me frail and powerless in a moment where I'm not requiring any assistance. I always think of the reverse—would this guy do the same if I were a man? Of course not. Or he would at least have responded the first or even the second time I said "thanks, I've got it". But finally, when I turned around for the third time to see that he was ready to mount me from behind while saying "oh, you just got a little bit more to go", like I'm a 5 year old, I had to look directly at him and say "Please let go of my bike".

It must be confusing for some guys. They're raised to do all kinds of things for women, without any explanation why and are never sure whether it makes them a wuss, tough, rude, nice, letchy, perverted or helpful. I'm willing to give many the benefit of the doubt and I don't get bothered when a guy holds open a door for me. I hold open doors for people. I just think it's the thing to do.

But there are other things, like me lifting my bike onto the vertical hook on the light rail that, if I'm doing it already, I don't need help. I'm also not so fond of people touching my stuff but that's sort of a secondary irrational pet peeve. And what makes it more of an awkward and sometimes frustrating situation is that getting your bike on that hook isn't exactly the easiest thing to do. I see all kinds of people, big and small, struggle with it. But if I don't get it up there immediately on the first try, it's like I'm a stubborn, silly female who really can't do it but hates men and doesn't want there help so will instead injure herself in the process.

This got me thinking about stubbornness. I had been accused of this for most of my developing years and less frequently as I get older. But mostly, what I was supposedly being "stubborn" about were basic things like insisting on going some place on my own rather than being escorted there (i.e. walking to the bus stop) or basically doing something, anything, that I wanted to do. "Stubborn", "Independent" and "Pigheaded" (thanks Mom) are some key words for many women choosing to do something on their own that others think they shouldn't and can often be spoken with the word "too" placed in front of them.

I wish I wasn't repeating what I said to this supposedly helpful guy over and over again in my head. My polite self that's often telling me I'm too stubborn is having a conversation in my head with the self that is confident and able-bodied. The 2nd self is attempting to win. The first self is hoping that I don't run into this guy on the train again.

oh is THAT what you meant

It starts off where you're not really sure what's happening. What's normally a mundane transaction that you see out of the corner of your eye becomes slightly off and then you're staring to figure it out.

When people tell me they don't want to or are afraid of riding the bus, I think twice about telling them stories like what happened yesterday. I don't want to feed into the panic.

After the driver loaded up a wheelchair on the #30 bus, he opened the front door to the rest of the passengers. A guy got on that I noticed had ran from another bus that crossed in front of us—no big deal, no fanfare. Then another guy in a red shirt starts getting on and it seemed like the guy behind him fell into him or ran into him by accident. Then, that little alarm that goes off in my head when I can tell something just isn't quite right went off and there stood before me a full-fledged, clumsy fight scene by the fare box.

The 2nd guy hadn't fallen but had pushed the 1st guy into the fare box. Then he started pulling things off of him—a headset, a backpack, a phone. He kept shoving him and mumble/yelling profanities about him stealing his stuff. He threw the phone, which went towards the bus driver, who was trapped in his little bus-driver seat box corner. The guy being attacked seemed almost unaffected and amused. He held his hands up like he just touched something he shouldn't have and kept trying to just get out of the way of the maelstrom. When the pushy guy got off, I thought it was over and just a weird aberration to the day but then he insisted on continuing the drunk fight scene (there were a few people in the back of the bus who didn't get to fully appreciate the first few moves). He kept pushing and picking up small items (the same ones, it seemed) to throw at the unaffected red-shirt guy. Finally, after about 3 or 4 re-boardings and almost falling into a woman and her daughter who yelled "get off me! get away from me!", a conflicted-looking bus driver grabbed the guy, pushed him off the bus and told him if he got back on his bus, he was going to kick his ass.

It sounds very active and very eventful but most of us sat there watching with mild interest. I can honestly say that it wasn't until the pushy guy got somewhat close to me that I even felt my heart race a bit. Most of us seemed pretty bored, with the exception of a couple giddy teenagers in the back seats.

A few people and the bus driver called 911 while this guy stood ranting and raving to anyone walking by outside the bus. The driver couldn't even let anyone else on since this guy was obviously hell-bent on getting back in.

The cops showed up. Phone calls and texting commenced. The attacked guy never actually denied having stolen this guy's stuff. No one really talked about it with each other—just threw around a few knowing glances and rolled eyes. Apparently, most of us had seen worse.

Eventually, another bored, casual-looking cop showed up about a minute after the drunk guy had hopped on his alarm-yellow bike and swerved down the road. I assumed I would hear about a pedestrian/vehicle accident when I got home.

Then it was over and we headed on our way.

the only people having fun on the bus are the little kids

They stared out the window with their eyes widening and tracking the landscape. They turned one way, then the other, and pointed out something on the horizon to the person next to them—a funny sign, a strange-looking person, a building, an airplane in the sky. They yelled across the aisles to their friend—giggling and fidgeting about the speed of their movement and how they seemed to float above the public. They were separate touring entities—set apart from the masses and in a perfect view-finder for the city. They were safe and comfortable and excited.

What a relief to see adults behave this way for a change. The doors and windows of the city were finally opened up to show what I've been looking at for years—like paintings covered up in storage and then revealed to the open air. The light rail brought all of this to hordes of adults clamoring to get on board and fighting to get a seat. It moved fast and they didn't have to do any work. It was a moment of powerlessness and effortless bliss—like free-falling. Walk on board, look out the window and soon you'll be some place else.

Every day, kids on the city bus smash their noses and mouths to the smudgy windows (to everyone's disgust), shouting out every now and then to their parent or grandparent and sticking their finger where they just licked the window. They look around at everyone else on the bus—the placid faces staring forward and waiting for the next destination. Like a dog in a thunderstorm who barks and whines because the sky is falling and no one even looks alarmed, these adults seem to have no concept of the amazement that is presented to them just outside the window with hardly any effort on their part. 

Every now and then I'll catch someone noticing something and then pretending that they didn't. This morning it was an ordinary black bird that looked both ways, then hopped onto the tracks next to our waiting train. The guy 2 seats behind me either saw me seeing it or saw it himself. Either way, we both watched the twitchy movements of the bird while it poked around the tracks for scraps of food. It looked just like a person picking up items in a grocery store. Pick up, inspect, replace, retain, move along in short intervals. Without staring, I imagined the guy pressing his nose against the window, then squishing it sideways until the bird was completely out of view. Then he'd look up and around and notice me watching too. His eyes would get wide, he'd jump up and down while kneeling in his seat and say something incredibly observant and exclamatory like "DA!".  

p.s. while looking for a photo for this entry, i did a search for "child bus window" on google images and noticed that the only ones to come up were mostly kids on buses in other countries. so...not only is staring out the window a novelty but watching children staring out a window can only be fully appreciated while in another country??

the "change"

It's as if someone dropped the concept of public transportation on the city of Phoenix for the first time.

The other morning after doing all of my post-boarding adjustments (iPod on, book out, jacket unzippered, bag in place, etc) I looked up to notice a change in scenery. Suddenly, the train was filled with 20-30 somethings, well-dressed white people. I'm not sure where they all came from, or where they were before but here they were right in front of me. 

Now I'm glad anytime anyone decides to take public transit over the sometimes complicated venture of driving, navigating and parking a car but I couldn't help feeling slightly annoyed at why all these people were here invading my nice cozy territory and where exactly they all came FROM.

For the months and even years leading up to the opening of the light rail, I often heard people telling me that they couldn't wait until the light rail started because then they could take it to X. Sometimes I'd point out to said person that the place they wanted to go was already readily available to them by bus line Y. Usually there would be an awkward moment where the person would look stunned, surprised, or comically curious. I knew it was all an act, though, because the truth was that riding the bus didn't really enter into their vocabulary because there was that certain stigma attached to it. There was also the rare person (maybe just one) who out and out said that they didn't want to ride the bus because it was, you know, the BUS and there were BUS PEOPLE on it.

I've thought about why I don't feel offended by this. Even though I take the bus voluntarily now—having a car and having the money to fill the tank—it used to not be voluntary for most of my life. My mom never drove (and still doesn't have a drivers license) so walking and riding the bus was crucial to transporting ourselves anywhere. Even after I broke my arm walking to school in Sinking Spring, PA, we had to take 2 buses to get to the hospital in downtown Reading. I never had a parent (meaning my dad) willing or interested in driving me anywhere so the only option was walking, biking or the bus. I guess for some people this would seem hugely unfair and ridiculous but I didn't have much time to think about that because it was just my life.

And, even after getting my driver's license at age 21, I didn't have a car until I was 22 and then shared it with my boyfriend. I still had to ride my 1984 Schwinn, walk and ride the bus to get around.

So doesn't all of this history make me a bus person? And what's so bad about me? I shower regularly, read my book quietly, follow the bus rules, give up seats to elderly, pregnant and disabled people and am a generally responsible, considerate person. Does that make me not a bus person? Where has this stereotype come from and how does it apply to the entire population of bus riders? What picture is conjured when they (or you) think of a "bus person"?

I know what these people are referring to, though. I know, and have first-hand knowledge of all the nightmare stories about some experience of someone's friend of a friend who once rode the bus to a certain location and witnessed something horrifying and scarring that will forever detain them from taking public transit. I know, but don't understand, the general public's fear of being in close proximity to a transient, ex-con or "urban youth". But do they think that the light rail will exclude these people? I'm not sure I understand what makes a bus moving on rails more acceptable to face these things than being on a bus with wheels.

Some might say it's the time or the distance or inconvenience of riding the buses. But from what I could see, most of the new guard of riders were taking it mostly up Central Avenue and getting off before it left downtown. Before the light rail there were 3 buses that ran EACH every 15 minutes, making them run even more frequently than the light rail. The travel time up Central is also basically the same—about 10 to 15 minutes.

Most likely I'm guessing it's the concept of safety-in-numbers. When other young, white professionals know that other young, white professionals are also going to be riding public transit, it suddenly becomes acceptable within their realm of options. But then I say to myself, aren't I a young white professional? It just makes me feel, yet again, that I have never and maybe will never, feel as though I'm a part of the group that I possibly could be labeled as being a part of. Maybe it's having grown up in public housing, or having uninvolved, unconcerned and apathetic parents who had no concern to take me anywhere. Maybe it's having been forced to be resourceful and do what most people have to do to get to work, get to school or, you know, get to the emergency room.

Generally, I think I'm pretty happy about my ability to not be intimidated by things that I know nothing about. There's always a way to figure out how to do something or how to get somewhere. And there's that great sense of liberty when I know I don't have to do something only when everyone else decides they're going to do it too (who the hell has time for that?).

I'm glad that these people have decided to open their horizons and I think, in a few weeks, I might actually start believing that I think that. But for now I'm going to harbor just a slight amount of resentment and annoyance that most of these people couldn't have figured this system out months or years ago—unclogging and un-polluting the streets when it wasn't a group decision to do so.