Tiny Annoyances…

[Warning: What follows is a rant!]

I get on an average of four different buses a day. There is no parking for lowly staff at my job so I’ve gotten quite tri-met savvy as a result.

This morning I boarded an 8 bus in downtown. As the bus pulled away from the stop, I found myself trudging up the aisle to my standing place, using the full strength of my legs. Then, the driver suddenly let off the gas and I shot forward, catching myself only by grabbing the bars beside me. Every friggin’ stop, and stops are frequent on the way up to the hill, everyone on the bus was thrown forward when he braked, and shoved into their seats (or had to hold on for dear life if they were standing, like I was) when he slammed the accelerator.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt I thought, “it’s a bus full of people, it’s not going to handle like a car.” But then I reasoned “no, I’m on buses ALL THE TIME and I don’t commonly experience rides as rough as this one.” I really would have preferred to walk. Also, back in my drilling days I drove a Freightliner on dirt roads, loaded with 1200 gallons of water and scores of sticks of drillpipe, and I, a truck driving novice, managed to handle that rig better than he handled his bus (no more than one quarter of the weight) this morning. That fucker needs to learn some finesse, plain and simple.

Whenever I setup a new study that involves tests that are uncomfortable or trying for my subjects, I sit myself in the hot-seat beforehand (as long as it doesn’t do me harm) so I have an idea of what they will be feeling when I ask them to endure such torments. Bus drivers should be riders on occasion. They should have to wait 15 minutes later than their bus’s posted time and then have to pack themselves in like sardines when it finally arrives. They should be forced to occupy no more than 2 square feet of space while the bus they’re riding winds down Terwilliger at 50 mph. After all, that’s a typical 8 line ride, both on and off the hill, for me. Perhaps that would cue them to be a bit more conscientious.

As further proof of the exceptional patience and kindness of your typical Portland citizen, nobody hollered at his inept ass. With my typical all-talk-and-no-action way, I stopped myself from climing up to and driver’s seat to say “move over and let me drive; obviously you can’t.”