Friday, October 28, 2005
I remember soldiers sleeping next to me...riding on the metro-oh-oh
Since both Angie and Suzy have posted about their opinions and experiences riding the bus, I thought I'd get a few things off my chest about my own transitory (GET IT?) experiences.
My bus to and from the Casino went past both Sea-Tac airport AND the stadium where the mariners lose (thankfully, this was before they completed the giant gordita where the seahawks lose, though the construction of same was a whole subset of anger issues). This meant that not a day went by that I didn't get to experience people who didn't need to ride the bus, who thought they could save a few bucks on parking by mixing with us unwashed bus-riding masses. Picture your typical middle-class family, mom, dad, junior and sis, all with the attendant luggage, which they thoughtfully leave in the aisle between the four seats they take up, for your tripping pleasure.
There were a few occasions where I had to wait at the airport for a transfer. For some reason, I was always the guy people asked where to catch this bus or that bus. On one particular occasion I was accosted by one of those guys who I can tell at a glance represent everything I consider evil in the world; the suit, the briefcase, the pattern baldness, the whole "trading junk bonds makes me better than you," vibe. Mr. Bonfire-of-the-vanities asks me where Bay 3 is. I point to a sign about ten feet away and say "It's right there, where it says Bay 3." Then I stare at him. Hard. Telepathically expressing my contempt for this arrogant, ignorant fuck and everything he represents. He looks over, then back at my carefully practiced stare, stammering something about, "oh, heh heh, guess I should've...*hooh*..yeah," as he hobbles away, metaphorically emasculated.
When you work in such a shit job, you have to take your victories where you can.
Going past the marinerhole was a unique experience, combining the inconvenience of transit with the utter contemptibility of sports in general and sports fans in particular. Again, as the bus slowly made its way through the extra traffic that the city never bothered to plan for (and you know what could alleviate some of that traffic? A fucking MONORAIL), I swear the SAME nuclear families from the airport would get on, again thinking they could save a few bucks on stadium parking, ignorant of every bit of bus etiquette and protocol. I swear to god there was more than one time I saw a family get on, decked out in their mariner caps and jerseys, the kids clutching their ichiro bobbleheads, mom carrying the cooler full of juice boxes and snacks that she prepared so they wouldn't have to pay for stadium food, as the dad would hand the driver a twenty and say "four tickets, please."
And they always seemed to think that being a living sitcom stereotype somehow gave them more right to a seat than the guy getting off a ten-hour shift. They would stand there, staring passive-aggressively at me, while I cheerfully played my Game Boy at them, making a point of not noticing them. You get a seat when you learn the meaning of "exact change," dickmunch.
The upshot, though, is that if I didn't ride Metro I never would have heard the meanderingly anti-capitalist rant the guy made to his friend, that ended with "Seattle is the test-market city for the whore of Babylon." That kind of memory lasts a lifetime.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
My bus to and from the Casino went past both Sea-Tac airport AND the stadium where the mariners lose (thankfully, this was before they completed the giant gordita where the seahawks lose, though the construction of same was a whole subset of anger issues). This meant that not a day went by that I didn't get to experience people who didn't need to ride the bus, who thought they could save a few bucks on parking by mixing with us unwashed bus-riding masses. Picture your typical middle-class family, mom, dad, junior and sis, all with the attendant luggage, which they thoughtfully leave in the aisle between the four seats they take up, for your tripping pleasure.
There were a few occasions where I had to wait at the airport for a transfer. For some reason, I was always the guy people asked where to catch this bus or that bus. On one particular occasion I was accosted by one of those guys who I can tell at a glance represent everything I consider evil in the world; the suit, the briefcase, the pattern baldness, the whole "trading junk bonds makes me better than you," vibe. Mr. Bonfire-of-the-vanities asks me where Bay 3 is. I point to a sign about ten feet away and say "It's right there, where it says Bay 3." Then I stare at him. Hard. Telepathically expressing my contempt for this arrogant, ignorant fuck and everything he represents. He looks over, then back at my carefully practiced stare, stammering something about, "oh, heh heh, guess I should've...*hooh*..yeah," as he hobbles away, metaphorically emasculated.
When you work in such a shit job, you have to take your victories where you can.
Going past the marinerhole was a unique experience, combining the inconvenience of transit with the utter contemptibility of sports in general and sports fans in particular. Again, as the bus slowly made its way through the extra traffic that the city never bothered to plan for (and you know what could alleviate some of that traffic? A fucking MONORAIL), I swear the SAME nuclear families from the airport would get on, again thinking they could save a few bucks on stadium parking, ignorant of every bit of bus etiquette and protocol. I swear to god there was more than one time I saw a family get on, decked out in their mariner caps and jerseys, the kids clutching their ichiro bobbleheads, mom carrying the cooler full of juice boxes and snacks that she prepared so they wouldn't have to pay for stadium food, as the dad would hand the driver a twenty and say "four tickets, please."
And they always seemed to think that being a living sitcom stereotype somehow gave them more right to a seat than the guy getting off a ten-hour shift. They would stand there, staring passive-aggressively at me, while I cheerfully played my Game Boy at them, making a point of not noticing them. You get a seat when you learn the meaning of "exact change," dickmunch.
The upshot, though, is that if I didn't ride Metro I never would have heard the meanderingly anti-capitalist rant the guy made to his friend, that ended with "Seattle is the test-market city for the whore of Babylon." That kind of memory lasts a lifetime.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Comments:
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Unfortunately this is pretty much my life:
"Mr. Christian asks X where Bay 3 is. X points to a sign about ten feet away and say "It's right there, where it says Bay 3."
"Mr. Christian asks X where Bay 3 is. X points to a sign about ten feet away and say "It's right there, where it says Bay 3."
ahhh yes, I often wondered about the monorail thing here in Seattle.
As a fan of politicians that actually represent us, I have found them neither in Utah or in Seattle.
In Utah, the people (the ones with the power) voted against light rail twice, but got it anyway. I was glad to see that it is being used by the people there in Salt Lake as that would have been a supreme waste (of which there are many).
But here in Seattle, we voted FOR the monorail several times and voted against the stadium (tax dollars to be precise, for the stadium) and both cases the people did not get what they voted for.
I don't know about you folks, but even just as a protest vote, we have to stop re-electing the type of people that promise big and deliver the opposite if what few things we vote on.
By the way, I have to be honest. In this last vote I voted against the monorail because I did not see the plan they offered as being close to acceptable.
But I would vote for a monorail if the plan actually made sense ($ and route), because it makes sense to have transit in a mega-city like Seattle, and not just a million frickin buses.
Just as I said to the editor of the olympian, I don't mind having the highest gas tax in the country, as long as the money goes to the roads and not the staduims.
did I just rant. . .
I guess I have to end this rant with the truth that seattle is just the test ground for the whore of babylon, whose number you can find in the back of any stranger or seattle weekly.
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As a fan of politicians that actually represent us, I have found them neither in Utah or in Seattle.
In Utah, the people (the ones with the power) voted against light rail twice, but got it anyway. I was glad to see that it is being used by the people there in Salt Lake as that would have been a supreme waste (of which there are many).
But here in Seattle, we voted FOR the monorail several times and voted against the stadium (tax dollars to be precise, for the stadium) and both cases the people did not get what they voted for.
I don't know about you folks, but even just as a protest vote, we have to stop re-electing the type of people that promise big and deliver the opposite if what few things we vote on.
By the way, I have to be honest. In this last vote I voted against the monorail because I did not see the plan they offered as being close to acceptable.
But I would vote for a monorail if the plan actually made sense ($ and route), because it makes sense to have transit in a mega-city like Seattle, and not just a million frickin buses.
Just as I said to the editor of the olympian, I don't mind having the highest gas tax in the country, as long as the money goes to the roads and not the staduims.
did I just rant. . .
I guess I have to end this rant with the truth that seattle is just the test ground for the whore of babylon, whose number you can find in the back of any stranger or seattle weekly.
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