The Wheels on the Bus

The bus I ride to work is nice. It's part of a "commuter express" line of buses, Greyhound-like in its design, and established to ship in people from the suburbs to downtown. It only runs during morning and evening rush hour.

It's definitely more comfortable than my car, a 2000 Jeep Cherokee. It's more relaxing than driving. The seats recline, there is overhead storage, and there is generally enough room that you don't have to sit next to anyone else if you don't want company. I've snoozed on the way home, but otherwise I read or obsessively play scrabble on my iPhone. The route is set up so that it takes no more time to take the commuter bus than to drive my car downtown. There are HOV lanes on the freeway and a limited number of stops at the beginning of the commute. Frankly, I think it's genius in transportation planning. The only way it could be better is if I still drank and they served martinis. If taking the bus is the most inconvenient situation I experience this next year, I have nothing to complain about.

No one really talks on the phone on the bus, which brings me to some observations on bus etiquette in general. You can imagine that it is the same gang of people at each stop who board. People are generally polite, nodding and smiling. There's a crew of reality t.v. followers who discuss who got voted off what island last night. There's a lot of discussion about the weather, a lot of "well, it's Monday," "hooray, hump day," and "thank God it's Friday" talk. We've got one lady at my stop who's a real personality--her voice reminds me of the nosy neighbor in "Bewitched," and she's forever accusing the bus driver of smoking on the bus. She can smell it--he's not supposed to do that.

After one boards, however, no talking. I don't know how other people feel about this, but I'm grateful. I need a little quiet time between wrestling the kids out the door and hitting my office door. Plus, I suck at small talk. One horrifying morning, though, I politely responded to a morning greeting and found myself subjected to AN ENTIRE CONVERSATION. IT DIDN'T END UNTIL I REACHED MY STOP. Really? This guy doesn't know the rules? No one likes to start their day this way, friends. Don't chat with strangers on the bus.

The commuter bus experience is vastly different from your regular municipal bus experience here in southern California. I've lived in other cities where bus travel is more widely used and accepted. Here, as you've probably gathered, there's a certain class issue involved.

When I first described how I planned to manage the suspension of my license to a female relative, she said, "but the people who ride the commuter bus are more like you, right?" I assumed she meant professionals, but it's an interesting question. My fellow commuters certainly don't ride the bus for the same reason I do. Most likely, they are saving gas and parking money because the bus is so convenient. I suspect that my reasons for taking the bus are more similar to those passengers I've seen on the regular municipal buses I ride sometimes--can't drive for one reason or another--can't afford a car, or the insurance, or like me, the state of California has withdrawn the privilege.

These people are pierced. They sometimes smell bad, and sometimes rave and weave. They drag large plastic bags filled with stuff onto the bus with them. Young mothers and their babies. Or they might be young hipsters, living in the more urban areas of the city. And, during commuter hours, you'll find people going to work.

None of this is different from bus rides I've taken in other cities, but for some reason I feel the class difference more keenly here.

Maybe this will illustrate it best: a security guard greets you at the downtown office where you can buy your monthly transit pass, and there is thick, presumably bullet-proof, glass separating the employees from the public.