The Foldable-Bicycle Man

Way back in January, I had just finished my first half marathon in over a year. I had spent a few months training with some coworkers, and they convinced me to join them for a celebratory lunch. I rode with coworker Joe up to the restaurant and got out of the car. As I closed the car door and headed down the sidewalk, I heard someone shouting, and I looked to see if the shouting was directed at me. Sure enough it was. "Hey!" the man had shouted, waving his arms as he did so. As recognition took hold, I was more excited to see this man than I'd ever been to see someone whose name I didn't know.

That takes us back a little further in time. How far, I'm not sure (since I don't blog nearly as much as I intended to), but somewhere between 10 months and 2 years. A man around my age became a regular on one of the buses I took in the morning. What caught my attention is that he brought his bike ON the bus (that's a no-no). However, he could get away with this because his bike folded up. He stepped onto the bus, folded up his bicycle, and tucked it neatly under the bus seat. That evening I shared the news with Craig (and since Craig has a near eidetic memory for anything bicycle-related, he may be more successful at identifying when this story began). 

After seeing the foldable-bicycle man several times and seeing that he would be a regular, I struck up a conversation with him about his bicycle. He bought the foldable bicycle because he was perpetually frustrated with how frequently the bike racks were full. If the bike racks are full, you have to wait for the next bus. Eventually our conversations evolved past bicycles and buses, but they were never long. He boarded the bus only 2 miles before my stop.  By the fall of 2012 we had used our little 2 mile conversations to learn a little about each others' jobs, our significant others, and other little tidbits. Our names never came up. On our final bus ride together, we somehow got on the subject of programming and I mentioned Craig's new toy, a Raspberry Pi. Foldable-bicyle man's eyes lit up so brightly that I knew he and Craig needed to meet. It was time to bring our bus acquaintanceship to the next level. Alas, my stop had approached and I barely had time to say goodbye, let along tie up the loose ends of our conversation.

And then foldable-bicycle man disappeared.  Weeks passed without a single sighting of the foldable bike and I eventually accepted that I may never see him again. If it weren't for a chance meeting near a restaurant I'd never gone before, that would have been the case.

*****

"Hey!" he shouted. I turned to the shouting, recognized him and quickly ran over to him and his wife. "Sorry for shouting at you," he said, "I realized I don't know your name." And so we exchanged names and other pleasantries. He introduced me to his wife. I learned that he (gasp!) started driving to work. And this time, without the threat of an upcoming bus stop, I took the time to get his contact information so that we could see each other again. I'm so happy I did this, because we've already had several fun get-togethers since then. These two turned out to be great people. I knew it for sure when we began planning a dinner and game night:

Me: Feel free to bring any games you might want to play. Craig and I have a few favorites that we always want to teach everyone, but we can certainly keep our options open.
Oh, just a side note: We have 2 cats; if you dislike cats/are allergic to cats let me know. We can try to minimize their allergens for you.

Foldable-bicycle man: As for the cats, seeing that we have four feline furry faces of our own... we should be okay on the allergy part. (I swear, we are not cat people.) I'll bring Settlers of Catan, one of our favorites too.

Cats and games... it was meant to be.

Bus strike! ... or maybe not (Part II)

Disrupting my thoughts came the bus driver's shouting, "Everybody off!"
Well, here it was: the Bus Strike! What would happen? How would I get home? While I debated whether to call Craig for a ride or to brave the walk home, I walked off the bus amongst a group of confused passengers.

Another bus pulled up behind ours. The two drivers walked over to each other and discussed what I assumed to be bus-strike planning. Then our driver walked away and onto the second bus. "Everybody on! Have your bus passes ready!" He blared. Still confused, I showed my pass and went on the second bus. I don't know why the drivers decided to exchange buses, but from there, the trip went as usual. Phew! Bus strike averted!

Eventually, talk of a bus strike faded into the background and bus-life continued as usual. Months went by before I heard the news. I have a coworker who gets smart phone updates for just about everything. Since I rarely watch or read the news, he came to share the information with me that a bus strike would begin the following Monday. I didn't believe the buses would actually follow through, but I was glad to be in-the-know instead of risking a morning of wondering when my ride would arrive.

I kept an eye on the bus website for the weekend, which share potential plans for the strike. Hoping to avoid the chaos, I chose to ride my bike to work on Monday. My typical bus route covers the shortest possible distance, which is not bike-friendly. For my bike trip, I followed a bike-friendly bus route, giving me the opportunity to spread the word, minuteman style: "The buses aren't coming!"

I continued to watch the progress of the bus strike throughout the day. I learned that the bus contract requires the company to provide a certain percentage of service in the event of a strike. While the company made attempts, they did not meet this percentage. On top of that, the service they did provide was only useful to people who had the luxury to spend a large portion of their day at a bus stop. While a typical bus schedule will list the estimated times a bus will arrive at designated stops, the only information we had was this:

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

City of Phoenix
Overview of Bus Route Status as of 8:20 a.m., March 12, 2012

Bus Route Frequency Schedule
Frequency is varying on routes throughout the day. Veolia-operated routes are operating 14 percent of normal service.
  
Route                             Estimated Frequency
Central Avenue                       40 Min
Washington Street                   None
7th Street                                 60 Min
7th Avenue                              None
Roosevelt/Grant                      None
12th Street                               None
15th Avenue                            120 Min
16th Street                               None
19th Avenue                           120 Min
27th Avenue                           180 Min
35th Avenue                           240 Min
40th Street                              120 Min
44th Street/Tatum Blvd           None
Camelback Road                    180 Min
Roeser Road                           60 Min
Bethany Home Road               60 Min
Glendale Avenue/24th St       120 Min
Northern Avenue                     60 Min
Dunlap Avenue/Cave Creek   180 Min
Peoria Avenue/Shea Blvd      240 Min
Cactus Road/39th Ave            None
Thunderbird                            None
Greenway Road                      None

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Therefore, even if my bus happened to come at a time convenient for me, I wouldn't know it. My only option would be to wait outside for anywhere between 1 and 240 minutes in hopes that it would eventually arrive.

On Tuesday, I rode my bike again and broke the bad news to those waiting at the bus stops. One high school student said he knew about the strike, but the bus had come yesterday. He followed that information with the statement that he was only 1 hour late to school. Great tardiness excuse for a high school student, not so much for me.

On Wednesday and Thursday I drove my car, evoking surprise in many of my coworkers that I even owned a car. On Friday I opted for another bike ride. I loyally followed the updates on the bus website. The service percentage changed erratically, teasing me with percentages of 30% and then tumbling down to 8% a few hours later.

By early next week, the companies had reached an agreement on the new contract and bus service went back to normal. I imagine that a majority of local residents didn't have any idea that a bus strike was going on at all. Even for me, it ended up being a minor (albeit blog-worthy) blip in my life. For many, the strike made for an extremely difficult week. There are those who live far from work and don't have a car, those who have to fulfill their sentence at "tent city" after having their licence revoked. While the public transportation system of Phoenix is quite unpopular, I'm glad we have it. I support the workers who went on this strike, because I believe employees should take a stand when they are being mistreated. I don't know if the strike made a permanent difference in anyone's life. If nothing else, it gave me a new experience. And that is the tale of the bus strike.

Bus Strike! (Part I)

A few months ago, I chose to ride the "early bus" to work, aka the bus that picks me up before 7 am.  I was behind on school work and decided to take this bus a few times over the course of two weeks.  The bus happened to have added bonuses.  One: a bus buddy from last year had a shift change, so I now only see him when I ride this bus. Two: the driver is a stereotypical Long Islander: loud, cynical, and sarcastic. I enjoyed listening to her talk to other passengers with her pessimistic undertone throughout the bus rides.  One of the major topics was the upcoming bus strike.
"It's coming.  You better be ready."
"I don't know how they're gonna do this thing, but it's on it's way."
"Sorry guys.  It's not my choice, but don't expect me to be here next week."

These were some of her warnings, and I didn't take them lightly.  I don't understand all the variables that go into a strike.  Would I have advanced notice?  Would all the buses disappear?  Did the drivers collaborate and decide on a secret time to pull over and stop driving?  I hadn't a clue.  I continued to ride the bus, but stayed hypersensitive to the bus strike threat.  Despite Long-Island-Lady bus driver's warnings, she continued to show up to work each morning.

One evening, soon after my "early bus" rides, I had to take the "late bus" on my way home, aka the bus that picks me up after 6 pm. I got onto the bus as usual, settling in for some knitting and book-reading. Two miles into the trip, the bus driver pulled over and stopped. Of course, this is typical bus driver behavior since it's the only legal way to pick up passengers, even though the "Little Miss Sunshine" approach to riding a vehicle would probably save some time. The bus waited for a few minutes, which is also typical behavior because buses are supposed to stop at certain streets if they are ahead of schedule. But we weren't at one of those certain streets and we were already behind schedule. I looked around, but few people showed any concern.

Disrupting my thoughts came the bus driver's shouting, "Everybody off!"
Well, here it was: the Bus Strike! What would happen? How would I get home? While I debated whether to call Craig for a ride or to brave the walk home, I walked off the bus amongst a group of confused passengers.

Next Ride

Hello super-neglected bus blog!  I've decided to write in you today.

I'd like to put in a plug for a super new feature that the Phoenix bus system has added.  It's called "Next Ride."  It allows riders to text a number, type in their specific stop number, and find out the next 2-3 times that a bus should be appearing.  I think it's fantastic.  Generally, I take the same bus to and from work each day, so I've memorized all potential bus times.  However, it's great for taking the bus at new stops or for people who rarely ride the bus.

On Thursday, I was presented with the temptation of a Happy Hour.  I resisted many times and knew I had much work to do.  But on the fifth time I was asked, I happened to be in the midst of very unpleasant work, so I decided a Happy Hour would be right up my alley.  I got a ride to the place and knew that I wasn't far from a bus to take me home.  I bragged to my companions about Next Ride.  "This thing is great!" I exclaimed.  "Now I know exactly when the next bus will come!"

I had some time constraints, since I started taking a Thursday evening boxing class.  As long as I left the restaurant around 5:15, I would make it to the class on time.  I wasn't worried, because the bus stop was quite close and I could rely on the Next Ride feature.

When I felt I was running out of time, I sent a message to my good pal Next Ride to find out when I could get a lift home.  Next Ride informed me that the bus would arrive at 5:14.  No worries.  It was only 5:00 and I had plenty of time.  The waiter was a bit slow, so I decided to pay with cash instead of depending on him to leave with my credit card and return in time.  I was short a dollar, but I scrounged around to find one to borrow.  No worries.  It was only 5:10, and the bus stop was quite close.

My company offered me rides here and there.  I refused, since I was out of the way for everyone.  I reminded everyone that I choose to ride the bus because I like it.  I would be just fine getting the bus ride home.  Still, though I tried to hide this from everyone else, I felt I was cutting it close.  As soon as I left my company, I burst into a speedy run, with my red winter coat flapping behind me.  The bus stop was only on the other end of the parking lot and I could see the bus waiting.  This stop happened to be the end of the line, so the bus frequently waited for ten minutes before starting its journey south.  So, I ran my way toward the bus.  Though I felt I had time, I still felt frustrated getting stopped by the cars pulling out of the parking lot.  I knew I would feel safer once on my ride home.  I pulled my phone out as I ran and noticed that it was 5:12.  I was only 100 yards from the bus and knew I would make it with time to spare.

Then the bus started pulling away from the curb.  "It's only 5:12!" I yelled to no one.  Apparently, the bus didn't care that some texting service told me it would be there until 5:14.  It had it's own schedule to follow.  I waved with desperation to the bus as it flew by me.  I watched it stop at the red light only a few hundred yards behind me.  I considered trying to catch it there, but I decided that my attempts would be futile.

I ran back toward the restaurant, with my red jacket wings propelling me forward.  I knew that my offers for rides home were long gone, but I secretly hoped they would be there anyway.  While crossing one of the exits to the parking lot, I spotted one of the members of the group.  "Hello!" I shouted.  "Can you help me catch the bus?"  As it turns out, she was on her way to make another appointment, but she was too kind to turn me away.  So our bus chase began.

This kind woman was new to Phoenix, which added some difficulties to our bus chase.  Typically, I drive the speed limit and have learned to take my time while driving.  My below-the-speed-limit boyfriend has helped increase my patience on car journeys.  Today was an exception.  I glared at her speedometer hoping it would creep up a little higher.  It did not.  I shot directions at her as if we were racing for our lives.  I explained that if she could get me 5 miles south, we might beat the bus.  I sat on the edge of my seat, crossing my fingers that each light would stay green as we trotted down the streets.  Finally, we reached the intersection that I aimed for.  I sent my driver into a parking lot that would get me close to the crosswalk.  I flew open the door, said thank you and rushed off.  Nevermind that I had led this woman into a new area and may have gotten her lost.  I had a bus to catch!

I waited for the time to count down on the crosswalk, wrenching my neck out to watch for any approaching bus.  Finally, I crossed the street and made it to the bus stop.  Now, I simply needed to hope that I made it in time.  So, I waited.  And I waited some more.  I counted the endless stream of cars that passed without a single bus in sight.  The bus strolled in about 7-8 minutes after my arrival.  Success!


Dear Bus People,


Recently, I used your Next Ride feature.  I think this is a great feature, but it may be worth looking at the scheduled times.  The bus driver left stop 1234 at 5:12, two whole minutes before its scheduled departure!  I was quite frustrated by this, but I'm not tattling.  In fact, I got a ride to the bus stop 5 miles south and managed to get there before the bus.  The bus ended up being 5 minutes late for this stop.  It seems that the bus driver MUST leave the first stop early and still might not make it to other stops on time.  This section of the route battles crazy roundabouts and hectic freeway exits.  I suggest you look at the schedule to make sure the times are accurately reflecting route times.


Your loyal rider,
Laura

The Car Commute

Recently, I've done a little bit of car-commuting. I am part of a committee that included 4 days of training at the District Office. There isn't a direct bus route to the district office, though I have made it there without a car on several occasions. Generally, the carless commute includes a couple miles of running to get to the DO, a different bus line, and a couple miles of walking home. I've enjoyed these commutes even though they require much more time and planning. However, I decided to give myself a break and do some car-commuting. This allowed me to pack a lunch and carry my books. It also allowed me to arrive home especially early since I didn't have to engage in the usual duties that are required of me after the school day ends.

The commute is an easy one: about 8 miles, mostly highway miles, and mostly opposite of traffic. I welcomed the change. What I find about car-commuting is that from the instant I start driving to the instant I stop driving, I feel like I should already be home. Every minute that I sit in the car feels like a wasted minute. Even though my bus-commute adds 5-10 minutes to my daily commute, these minutes don't feel wasted. They are minutes where I am walking outside, eavesdropping on nearby conversations, reading a book, or chatting with the bus driver. For me, these are leisure minutes that are planned into every one of my bus-commute days. Car-commuting may get me to where I'm going with greater speed, but every minute feels wasted.

So, by the fourth day of car-commuting, the change had overstayed its welcome. I hit a few consecutive lights trying to get on the highway. By this time I had already zoned out and detached myself from the driving experience. My zone-out was interrupted by a truck that stopped next to me. The truck rumbled with bass, louder than I have heard in a dance club. The driver had his window open but seemed oblivious to the world around him. As I sat at the light, I realized that my car and I were physically vibrating along with the truck. I was so angered by this inconsiderate driver and felt that his actions were on par with the smoker who blows secondhand smoke directly into another's face. The red light seemed to go on endlessly until I finally shouted at the driver. If the music wasn't present, he would have been in earshot, and for some reason I believed he might hear me. He didn't. Even worse, I realized that the driver mindset had returned. It crept up so suddenly that I didn't see it coming. I refocused myself to get home safe and sound, in the mental sense. I went for a run to cleanse myself of my driving life.

I loved my bus-commute to work this morning.

Take Your Bike for a Ride

Something I love about riding the bus is becoming part of the bus culture. Did you know that Valley Metro makes music videos? As a member of the bus-clique, I will happily expose you to the little known wonders of the bus.

Enjoy.

Valley Metro | Valley Metro Notes

The Kidnapping

As I've mentioned, many of my coworkers seem to think I'm a little strange because I ride the bus by choice. One coworker offered to start picking me up on her way to work. On another occasion, I watched a woman pass me, turn around, park, and get out of her car. She walked over to me just to offer a ride home. Some refer to me as the Green Lady, because apparently riding the bus makes me an environmentalist. Imagine how shocked some were when they found out that I don't recycle. Being a new employee at this school, many of the initial conversations I have had with people have focused on offering me other ways to get to school other than taking the bus. All of these people have been quite friendly. In truth, I often feel bad about constantly turning people down. I know that people feel more connected to others when they can help them out. Still, I don't want everyone to think I am in need of help. Hopefully, I will be able to build relationships based on things outside of transportation, but I guess that takes time. Slowly people have come to accept me for who I am, but recently, one coworker took it too far.

In addition to riding the bus, I also like to get off one stop early. At first this was because the crosswalk closest to my school is specialized for the school. It's not at a stoplight, but when the pedestrian button is pushed, lights flash and cars are supposed to stop. That doesn't mean they do stop. So, unless I'm running late, I get off a half mile early and use a crosswalk by a stoplight. The crosswalk isn't the most pedestrian-friendly either. If I don't hit the pedestrian button before the light turns red, I don't get the walk signal and I have to wait for another round of light changes. I start many mornings by leaping off the bus and racing to the pedestrian crosswalk in hopes of making it to the button before the light begins to change. If the light is yellow, I pat myself on the back for such perfect timing. This morning routine may seem silly, but I love my race to the pedestrian button and I have found that my short walk to school each morning is a great way to wake up before stepping into my workday.

As I ran to the pedestrian button one morning, I noticed a car getting ready to make a right turn. I have to keep an eye on these cars, because they sometimes decide it is not worth their trouble to look right and end up driving where I am about to walk. I made eye contact with the driver and noticed it was one of my coworkers. She pulled over and rolled down the window. I figured this would be another time where I could give a simple no-thank-you and be on my merry way. No such luck. “Get-in-get-in-get-in!” she exclaimed, managing to turn six words into one utterance. No thank you. I'm okay. “Get-in-get-in-get-in!” she repeated. I'm really fine. Really. “Get-in-get-in-get-in!” By this time, I feared that she wouldn't give up until she got side-swiped by a passing car, so I complied and took a seat in the car. We made small talk and she was actually quite pleasant for a kidnapper. So I did my best to enjoy the short car ride instead of longing to be back outside for my morning walk. Then I became aware of the worst part of my kidnapping experience. She must have been trained in acts of torture because there, seeping out of the radio speakers, was morning radio. Not only that, but it was Elvis Duran on morning radio. I moved thousand of miles from my home town to escape many of the distresses of Long Island, and one of those things was the overrated, overplayed Elvis Duran and the Z morning zoo on Z100. There are so many other things I would have welcomed to follow me to Phoenix. Family members, friends, bagels, pizza, the ocean, and the teaching pay scale are just a few things that could have joined me here. Instead, I sat in a car being subjected to Phoenix's equivalent of Z100. Thankfully, the car ride lasted no more than five minutes before I was free to be away from talk radio and into the fresh air. I hope never to be kidnapped again.