I Loathe The Bus

Since giving up my suburban lifestyle, and my car along with it, I've become Mass Transit Girl. I'm usually apt to extoll the virtues of public transportation - less road rage! time to read! no need to find parking! - however, this weekend, I began to actively loathe the bus. It's been a long time coming. This feeling developed over several intersecting incidents, culminating during my trip to the Jerz this weekend.

Let's start with the Port Authority Bus Terminal, otherwise known as the Most Depressing Place on Earth. The 9th Avenue entrance to the PA/MDPOE is under construction, and has been under construction and will continue to be under construction, forever. One needs to walk underneath the rickety scaffolding, past the banner proclaiming 'New Entrance Coming Soon!' , snigger at veracity of the banner, and then endure the lecherous gazes of the loitering men in order to enter the building. Once inside, the scene isn't much better - brown brick walls, brown brick floors and lots of other loiterers. The stores/restaurants are subpar (does anyone shop at Strawberry? Did anyone ever shop at Strawberry??) and the graphics/art work seem to come from another era, namely, the late 70's. The whole experience is soul-crushing and grim, and you haven't even set foot on the bus yet.

This last Saturday, as I entered the PA/MDPOE at the ungodly hour of 7:43 am, my foot smooshed something on the ground. This...something...felt slightly sticky and gooey. I refused to slow down, because, if you stop/pause in the PA/MDPOE, you might as well admit defeat and become one of the loiterers, so I just looked behind me. And saw what appeared to be a condom on the floor. A used condom. Great. So now I needed to find a bathroom, correction, a bathroom that wouldn't make me gag as soon as I walked into it or question if it was better to leave the substance on my foot rather than step on the floor in said bathroom. Ok, I found the bathroom, shoved my shoe under the lukewarm water, contemplated going to an emergency room, and then tried not to think about it. Crisis averted. For now.

As I approached the departure gate, one foot making a "squick" noise as I walked, I noticed a large crowd of people. Waiting for the bus. Waiting for MY bus. And I was 45 minutes early! My hopes of a comfortable ride faded as I took my place in line. While in line, I noted a small child, who I would soon name 'Damian' running around, alternately crying/shrieking/kicking his mother. As his head swiveled at an unnatural 360 degrees. And he was getting on my bus. MY bus. I sighed, turned up my iPod, and tried yoga breathing to calm myself. Nothing doing.

And lets talk about being on the bus. Firstly, I'm wedged into the seat, weekend bag on my lap (and I'm female, so you know it weighed about 80 pounds, even though I was only going away for roughly 31 hours). The thighs of the person next to me are spilling over onto my side of the seat, and I have the childish urge to dead-arm punch this person, much like I did when I was 8 years old and on long car trips with my brother. And then tell the bus driver on them. The person in front of me has reclined their seat so far back that their head is practically in my lap (and I usually require at least dinner and drinks before I become that intimately acquainted, thank you). The person across the aisle has decided that a tuna sandwich and funyons make a delightful breakfast, and has decided to enjoy those treats despite the large signs which proclaim No Eating! There is a war in my stomach as to which will make me vomit first - the odors of my traveling companion's questionable food choices, the lurching of the bus as the driver negotiates his way into the Lincoln Tunnel, or the thought of the mysterious substance that I probably still have on the bottom of my shoe, leaking into the sole of my foot and my bloodstream.

I can't even comment on the traffic. Except. Hideous. But what was I expecting, traveling down to the shore during a summer weekend on the Garden State Parking Lot?

Next weekend, a trip to Boston on the bus. What am I thinking?