Road Rage via the M7 Bus

  I don't miss driving. Yes, I miss stopping at the gas station and getting my icy 64 oz. Diet Coke, but I don't miss driving.  For the most part the New York City bus and subway system are very efficient.

  But on the days that I work at "un-named retailor" I often catch the 3:35 bus from 108th Street to 83rd Street. It should take 15 to 20 minutes with the bus stopping every two blocks.  But... there are so many factors.  First of all the busses pick up handicapped and wheel chair passengers, which can take five minutes to board.  And since I often catch the  bus after schools have dismissed for the day I am riding on what has literally turned into a school bus.  In NYC all public school students get a metro car that can be used between 5:30 a.m. and 9 p.m. for four rides weekdays.   I live one block away from a middle school.  When I get on the bus there are 30 kids from Delta Middle School waiting to board the bus.  Down the road on 92nd Street we pick up the kids from Trinity and Columbia Prep, and so it goes. ... Oh, yeah, there are the nannies and preschool set that get on at Columbus Square.  So now the bus is packed. 

  What do kids do after school?  They eat. Imagine a bus full of middle schoolers eating Fritos, Cheetos, Twizzlers, gummy bears, Pirates Booty, and RingDings and the nannies are getting out juice boxes and granola bars and Cheerios.

  I have a loud voice that carries, so I have never told anyone to whisper, but the sound of middle schoolers shouting from one end of the bus to another is ridiculous.

  I know it's not politically correct to speak ill of the handicapped, but... The other day a woman got on the bus with her walker, which took about five minutes.  The bus had to lower the ramp to the sidewalk, she slowly (I cannot emphasize the word "slowly" enough) walked onto the bus.  Then all the seniors and mother's with babies had to make room for her in the handicapped seating area.  After all this she pushed the button to get off at the next stop. Are you kidding me!!!!???

  And then there is the rude bus driver. Don't even get me started.  One night I was coming home after midnight.  Legally drivers have to stop on any street on their route after 10 p.m. when requested by a passenger.  I asked the driver to stop at 108, although the next stop was 109.  I know it's only a block but late at night I'm not crazy about walking alone down a quiet street and I don't like the idea of crossing the path of a rat on the way.  I asked for 108 and he replied, "You can't get off on 109?  Really?"  I just stood there quietly waiting for 108. He did stop but I could hear him huffing and puffing in his seat.

 One night after work a bus stopped that read "Out of Service", but he had a few passengers still onboard.  He stopped at 83rnd and let someone off.  He asked me, "Where are you going."  I relied that I was going to 108th and Manhattan Ave.  Much to my relief he said, "Get on."  On 96ths he let off the other passenger on the bus.  He turned off the interior lights and he said, "Hang on!" and we flew up Amsterdam all the way to 108th/Manhattan.  When he stopped at my bus stop he said, "You and I are both gettin' home early tonight."

  On those rare un-crowded rides I try to be present and appreciate the moment. I guess it takes all those rides where I'm wishing for a Xanex to make me really appreciate the few and far between express rides home.

Whole Foods at Rush Hour

   I was at Whole Foods around 4:30 p.m. last Thursday.  Cameron is a locavor, so I rode my bikes the eight blocks to the store to buy locally raised produce so that she can enjoy her food in good conscience,  Most of the larger grocery stores in New York City are on two levels.  You take an escalator that has a stair function for the shopper and a smooth glide function for your cart to go up and down. 

  I went downstairs with my shopping cart to begin in the fresh produce and meat department.  The place was jam packed with people.  Mom's pushing strollers and pulling small carts, seniors in their hover rounds, young professionals dashing through with their hand held baskets, and the rest of us with large carts trying to find dinner for the family.  I was in the fruit and vegetable area and there was complete grid lock.  I saw an opening but I was going to have to push past an older Jewish woman who was slowly and purposefully looking at grapefruit.  I smiled and said, "Excuse me" as I pushed my cart past hers.  I was expecting the cart handles to bump each other, but nothing more.  As I passed I saw her finger when it was already too late.  She had her left hand all the way to the far edge of her cart and he pinky was on the outer edge of the handle.  As our carts made contact she screamed, "My finger!  I think she broke my finger!".  Needless to say I stopped my forward motion.  I apologized.  She did not acknowledge that I was even speaking to her.  I offered to go the fish counter to get her ice for her finger.  She just kept saying, "I think she broke my finger."  Just to clarify, there was no blood and although I knew that it hurt (it REALLY hurt) I knew it was not broken.  Remember, there was a major traffic jam and now our interaction was just compounding the situation. I apologized profusely again, and then I just moved forward. She was not acknowledging that I was even speaking to her and I knew, although it hurt, she had not "broken". 

   I made my way down towards the dairy aisle.  I could still hear her talking about her finger.  I wondered who she was talking to and guessed that she had cornered a produce stock clerk to retell her story to.  I was about to round the corner back towards the meat counter when I heard her say, "She broke my finger and then she just strolled away!"  Ok, now she is retelling the story and making it sound like I had crushed her finger without even stopping.  I didn't dare round the corner to see who she was talking to.  Paranoia set in and I was afraid she had managed to get the attention of a manager.  If feared that if they saw me I would be escorted out of the store.

  I saw an elevator open and rushed forward to get in.  I didn't dare take take the escalator where I would be exposed for her to point out and identify. 

  Although I needed cheese for a quiche that night I made a bee line for the registers.  Thank god there was a lull and I don't think I stood in line for more than five minutes.  All the while I was expecting to have a tap on the shoulder and to be escorted from the store. 

  I once I'd finished with the register I rushed to my bike and quickly balanced my bags between the two handles.  I sped home and did not stop to look back until I was safely on stoop.