It occurred to me, this last week, as rains and winds filled the skies; that there are not a ton of outer clothing options for the dark mornings/evening bus commuters.
I imagine not everyone drives to the Park N’ Ride to snag the *insert your route number here*. Some of us walk a fair number of blocks.
So many possibilities for ‘Metro Chariot’ attire… Especially that keep us far safer than black or navy blue raincoats.
The mornings in the Fall, that are without rain; are cold and full of static.
Nothing illustrates this more than walking to the bus, at 6:30 AM, and having your short dress slowly climbing your legs… yes, yes… the presence of a slip would be handy. However, this is not 1961, and I am not even sure I have ever owned a slip.
As one proceeds down the street, the nine blocks to catch the 312, one may be completely unaware that one’s nose may be running. It is cold and maybe slightly breezy… and enjoying the beginnings of the sunrise.
It does not become apparent until one is firmly-ish planted in one’s perch upon the Metro… where the heat is eye-lid-meltingly-high, and one’s nose begins to run… in that annoying, i-have-no-tissues-constantly-sniffing way.
Oh, Autumn, I love you!
The return to Standard Time brings the evening sky closer to our departure home…
But adds a special light to the bus stop… as we await the 312 north.
Stop to pause… and take it in.
Hands make things better…
An old man, helping his elderly wife onto the bus; making sure she is comfortable in her seat. Handing her the crossword puzzle she needs, as the bus the begins to pull away from the stop; his hands briefly holding hers as she smiles.
And the day begins…
…the magic is in the beginning.
The King Street Station.
The mix of old lady perfume, coffee, dryer sheets… and cherry cough drops.
I imagine, as the Fall and Winter press on, the corn syrupy presence of the cherry, desperately-trying-to-cough drops will become more prevalent.
Ahhh, the cold and flu season… in a tight space, with lots of people… for 40 to 50 minutes.
I appreciate a bus driver that says, ‘Good Morning’.
The route/s I commute on is a fairly lucky route… we have two, frequent, options… the 312 and the 522.
I know there are distinct differences… important political and financial ones. To me, however, one made my license renewal far more burdensome, and the other doesn’t always have the fresh-air-illusion-creating-airconditioning.
But for my every-day-purposes… they arrive fairly close together. So when one blows RIGHT passed you, seeming to not even slow down to make sure no one was anxiously, idiotically flapping in their arms…feet away from the stop, in the pre-dawn, artificial glow of the Rite Aid sign…. it’s a little annoying.
No matter if the next bus is only 12 minutes away.
It is a handy thing I work in a city with just a few coffee shops. *sigh*.
Erin's Bus Dailies 