why I love the bus
14 Jul 2003 at 02:32 PM
edited on 25 Feb 2008 at 12:55 AM
My little sister is in the process of selling and buying a new house. I think I’m going to go and visit and the end of the month and help out. The new house sounds super. She lives in Charlottesville, VA and it seems as rural of a place, as my parent’s home. I think I have spent so much here in Charlotte that it has become small. So it strikes my funny when Kim (my sister) is talking about not having cable or DSL. I think I have become spoiled.
I joke that I have a 4 mile radius around my house and I don’t venture out of that circle. That is true for the most part. A trip to Pineville, or the university area is rare and I find the traffic frustrating.
I don’t much like to drive, and would rather take the bus for the most part. Driving is convent, and with the weather we have been having it makes it difficult to want to take the bus or walk. The purchase of an umbrella might make it more palatable. But this is where our story begins.
Last Friday, we had some serious storms. I stood on the steps of the Y and watched the sky go from summer blue (99CCFF) to an angry grey 999999). I ended up walking home in the rain this day.
This was by choice of time and stubbornness. I could have taken the 19 bus which has a covered shelter directly across the street from the Y back to the downtown station and then transferred to the 6 which stops directly across from my house. I would have been home in 45 min to an hour safe sound and equally important—dry.
But I chose to walk which takes about 20 min. The rain had slacked off the sky didn’t look all that bad, so I a set off down Morehead street heading for home. By the time I had reached the intersection of Ekulid and Morehead about a block and a half, I was in the middle of a down pour. The number 19 bus had passed on the opposite side of the street during the heaviest of the rain, heading toward both the covered shelter, and downtown. I retrieved my phone from my pocked to check the time, a little past seven, the hopes of catching the Number 18 which intersected Morehead about a block and half further down my course danced in my head. I picked up my pace knowing the 18 left downtown right at 7 or so but was always a few minuets behind I felt confident in the matter of a few 1000 feet and 2 min I would at the very least be out of the rain and heading toward my nice dry house.
My Sketchers squeaked and farted, expelling water with ever step while simultaneously it felt as if my socks were absorbing water like what I would imagine a roll of paper towels in a pool. But not of this mattered I would soon be on a nice try bus, public transportation, the lowest from of transportation know the general charlotte public. As I approached the intersection all hopes were dashed as the 18 pushed through the yellow light, past the stop and out of site.
In this instant two things became clear, one I couldn’t possibly get any wetter, the only dry place on my body was the area of my t-shirt protected by my backpack, and that was my last chance (short of catching a cab, calling someone both unaccepted options) for a ride home.
Well at very least I did it on my own and my pride and anonymity were in tack.
I quickly realized that I would not be able to short cut via the green way the water has raised so quickly that it has covered the bridges and sidewalks. So East Blvd here I come. rnI cut several blocks off by cutting across some back parking lots and taking a much more direct course than any city bus could have ever hoped to take. I emerged on East Blvd no more than a half mile from home, soaked discouraged, but feeling a little bit of pride.
To my knowledge no one who knew me has spotted me, no explanations so to why I was walking in down pour on a late Friday afternoon. No rationalization for my bad judgment, or why didn’t you just drive or take the bus I was home free.
I was approaching Freedom Park, when I hear the honk of a horn. I look up and someone I know, I know but I can’t figure out who is, is waving and speeding by. I had been spotted. Then another car speeds by, apparently aiming for the puddle and covering me with a fresh drenching. This however had to happen because the rain had stopped about 5 minuets earlier. The now familiar perfume taste of the hair gel I use mixed with rain water once again ran across my face. As I wipe the water from my eyes, only to spot a lady from work. Not one of those close friends who I could tell my story on Monday and it would be funny. But one of those proper types who does’t really know you but knows people you know. I feel confident that this will be a one line comment made in some tangent conversation
“Oh I saw him walking in the rain the other day didn’t even have an umbrella”
Wet, tired, cold if its possible to be cold when its 80 out, embarrassed, I crossed made the last turn to home. I felt confident that I would walk up to the house and it would be smoldering or some unimaginable fait. But ‘m home and I can change cloths, and everything will be ok. I start to cross over Kings Drive, I look left step back 2 steps and receive one last splash, from the number 6 bus, that I had elected not to take
