I had to publish this now, because I have this New Post I'm working on that will BLOW YOUR MINDS

Back in my public transportation days, I would take an express bus from a parking lot close to my house to a Metro stop, where I'd take a train into the city. The express bus was usually a 15-minute journey, which was a good thing, since many mornings people were packed into them like sardines and most mornings I was late to the bus stop which made me one of the sardines who had to stand for the entire ride. The other good thing about the bus was that it was authorized to take the express lanes on the highway, so we rarely dealt with traffic or backups.

What would happen was the bus would get close to the little railroad crossing arm that separated the regular lanes from the express lanes and a sensor on the bus would alert the little arm that the bus was coming and then the arm would raise up and the bus would never have to slow down. I never second-guessed this technology. You can clearly see where this is going.

So one morning I'm standing in a packed bus, looking out the front window as best I can so I don't get motion sick and barf all over someone in a suit and an important-looking government badge, when I see that we're hurtling at top speed toward the little railroad crossing arm and the little railroad crossing arm is NOT GOING UP. And yet we're still moving! And the railroad arm is still down! Still down! STILL DOWN and the bus driver is clearly trusting that it is going to go up in time and then all of a sudden he realizes it isn't and he slams on the brakes and we go from 55 miles an hour to an ABSOLUTE STANDSTILL and no one but me seems to be aware this could even possibly happen because they've all got their noses buried in the Washington Post business section and so everyone standing in the aisle falls into a jumbled heap on the bus floor and briefcases are thumping into people's heads and elbows are jamming into people's ribs and FEET ARE STOMPING ON PEOPLE'S BACKS and the most awkward part is that after everyone stands back up, no one says anything. No one laughs, or cracks a joke, or swears at the bus driver for putting our lives in danger; even the bus driver HIMSELF doesn't say anything. No, we just stand there, silently, like the icy, soulless Washingtonians we are, and when I get to work everyone in the break room wants to know why I have footprints on my back. Oh, because I fell down in the bus and someone stepped on my back but I don't know who it was because no one helped me up and no one apologized either. No one apologized! AFTER STEPPING ON MY BACK.

Another time it was snowing when I got on in the morning and so it wasn't long before traffic was completely deadlocked, because this is Washington, DC, and even though every other winter we get a decent snowstorm, no one seems to remember anything about driving in it except that maybe they should PANIC and so I stood on that packed bus for MORE THAN AN HOUR, in the same spot, while we went nowhere. And ok, so don't get me wrong, I'm not the kind of person who expects men to give up their seats for a lady anymore (a pregnant woman or an elderly woman, however, YES PLEASE) but how about just giving other people (women AND men) a chance to sit down for a moment or two since you know they've been standing for a very long time? And I know, standing isn't usually that big of a deal (it's called working retail) but this was standing in a crowded area, where the most movement I could get was shuffling my feet a little; it's not like I could move around or stretch or UNLOCK MY KNEES. But everyone who was sitting kept their noses buried in their newspapers and books because it was the best way to pretend that others weren't suffering around them. So I stood there, getting angrier and angrier because DUDE, my LEGS HURT and I'm going to PASS OUT from the fatigue of being wedged between all these people and also the steamy steamy HEAT with the winter coat and the mittens and the hat and the wool scarf and then WHAT DO YOU KNOW: the man next to me says, “Would you like to sit down?” And I smiled at him and said, “Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though.” And then I had no one to be angry at but myself, because suddenly it was my own damn fault if my back gave out. Lesson: I ANNOY EVEN MYSELF.

Then one afternoon I left the office a couple of minutes late, so I was booking it to catch the train when I tripped in front of six lanes of traffic and fell on a grate. A GRATE. Which would have been bad enough, what with the six lanes of traffic and all and the fact that I haven't tripped and fallen down at full speed since JUNIOR HIGH, but what made it infinitely worse was that this particular grate wasn't flat, it had raised notches on it, like this. My casual Friday jeans were torn open at the knees and the skin was hanging off the heels of my hands and I was bleeding and did I mention that skin was HANGING OFF MY HANDS? My knee wounds weren't too obvious, because my jeans were soaking up the blood (yum!) but I was about to get on a crowded train during Friday afternoon rush hour, which meant I was most likely not going to be able to get a seat. The alternative was going to have to be to hold onto the poles with my raw, bloody hands or plant my feet as wide apart as I could get them and attempt to maintain my balance by holding my arms out and swaying along with the train. In other words, I was going to have to be the person that all the normal people went home and told their significant others about later that night. And I worried about this, a lot, in the moments before the train arrived, and then when the train did arrive, it was like the nightmare came true. I stood, trying to hold myself upright by clutching the pole with my fingertips and, when I could manage it without looking like some kind of pervert, also by squeezing it in between my bloody knees. For FORTY MINUTES I did this. And when the train would stop? I would hold my hands up in the air, ELEVATING THEM, to stop the bleeding. And although I suspected that I was the lone Crazy Freak on the train, it wasn't completely obvious until an entire seat opened up right beside me and after I sat down – EVEN THOUGH THE TRAIN WAS STILL PACKED LIKE A SARDINE CAN – no one had the nerve to sit down beside me.

This is totally unrelated, but about a month after I had the incident with the grate and the bleeding and the social outcasting on public transportation thing, I went to the doctor for a sinus infection and after she wrote me a prescription for an antibiotic I said, “You know? I tripped and fell a few weeks ago, and my knee is still really sore. Would you look at it and tell me if I should get it x-rayed or anything?” AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID? She said no, that I would need to call and get another appointment for someone to look at that. Which I know, is probably a stupid insurance coding thing or whatever, but OMG SERIOUSLY? All I wanted was for someone to look at it and tell me, hey, it's probably fine. Or, you know? Maybe you should have it looked at by a Knee Doctor or something. But she looked me RIGHT IN THE EYE and said no, make another appointment. Is that not the most RIDICULOUS thing you've ever heard? RIDICULOUS, especially when I sat in the waiting room for 40 minutes and then the exam room for another 30 and they want me to COME BACK and do it ALL OVER AGAIN? I decided I would come back if my leg fell off instead. AND THEN I WOULD SUE.

(My leg never fell off.)

(I would like to hear your public transportation stories, because I know yours will trigger more of my own memories. I don't hold onto memories well. As evidenced by the fact that I just watched an entire episode of My First Place on HGTV that I didn't realize I'd seen before until I was 27 minutes into it. THE SHOW IS ONLY A HALF-HOUR LONG.)

Comments

[H]

This was hilarious! As I was reading and in hysterics, my 17 year old daughter asked me what my problem was. I don't have any public transportation stories but I can't wait to read the comments once everyone else has contributed.

I have, however, done the same thing with several HGTV shows.

[Teresa]

I feel your pain regarding public transportation. I got on the blue/orange line one morning at L'Enfant and some guy walked in next to me and sat down holding a giant handsaw! It wasn't in a bag or anything. How do you politely get up and move far far away from someone holding a handsaw???

[Aimee]

Ok...I got a story for you! I was on the NYC subway, mining my own business. A seat next to what "seemed" like a sleeping rabbi was empty on this very crowed train. I sit snug in my skirt, with my bag on my lap. It was a HOT summer day, and I just wanted to get home after a LONG day at work. I feel something odd on my thigh...oddly hot and sticky. Suddenly I think it is moving. I whip off my bag off my lap to see "sleeping rabbi's" hand moving up my thigh. In horror I punch him--he continues to pretend sleeping. The guy standing infront me helps me up, and me out of there. The NYC girl in my is pissed off and I don't leave without a few more punches. GROSS.

[Anne]

I live in Chicago, and I have the strangest luck with public transportation. My everyday commutes are completely normal and uneventful. But bring my parents or other friends/relatives in from their suburban/rural homes and ALL the crazy train people come out to play. Suddenly I'm surrounded by a blind-train-begger TURF WAR, a man waxing poetic about how he is so happy that we finally have a woman president (...), a 60-ish year old man in a really nice suit making rocket-noises, a woman fighting with her boyfriend on the phone about whether or not she may have slashed his tires, and a man dressed in a banana suit (and NO ONE ASKED WHY).

I love this city.

[Lisa M]

Yeah, I tripped on one of those grates, too. While walking to a meeting...with my boss...a very important meeting. Sigh. Luckily he didn't make fun of me, but he did eye me funny, like "have you been drinking again" funny.
My only public transportation story (that I can remember clearly) is when I was in Paris, someone SNEEZED on my suede purse. And didn't apologize. I don't know if you've ever tried to remove boogers from suede...but it's not possible. So I had to go buy a purse. In Paris. As a very poor student. They don't really have cheap purses, at least not that I saw. All because some guy SNEEZED on my purse. 20 years later, still a little bitter.

[Victoria]

To this day, I still resist riding SEPTA with all my being. Even when this causes me to DD for the night. I love the public transportation in most cities, but Philly is the worst, especially the regional rail. I had to take a 45 - 60 minute train into the city for three years that was off schedule at least once a week and chock full during both morning and evening rush hours. However, I didn't really mind the business people - everyone generally kept to themselves and gave me time to catch up on work or a book.

It was the late night trains home that I hated. The times when an entire car was empty but a creepy guy chose to sit next to me. Or an entire drunk frat continued their party on the train.

Or the worst ever - the time I sat in something wet and didn't realize it until I got up to leave. Then went home and showered with boiling water for 30 minutes and put every chemical I could find on my favorite work pants. And tried to not think about what it could have been. Because sometimes, it is better to just not think about it.

[Jillian]

I used to ride the trolley from West Philly to downtown and once, a feeble old old old lady came up to me and I was all ready to offer her my seat, but then it turned out that she was CRAZY and she cursed me out and SPIT AT ME!!! and everyone on the trolley made a collective "ooooohhhh" sound, but what was I supposed to do? She was ancient. She got off at the next stop and the trolley driver apologized to me and told me he woulda done something about it if he didn't know she was going to get off at 46th and Pine. Gee, Thanks.

[Kate]

I moved from NYC to Connecticut during graduate school and had to take the train back into the city for class a few times a week. Boarding the train was always a huge, anxiety-provoking ordeal because of the lack of seating anyway, but I usually managed to find a seat after some pushing and being pushed around. On this particular day, I found a seat by the window and since it was standard practice for people to sit in an aisle seat, leaving the window seat open and make you practically crawl over them I had to do a sort of sideways shuffle to get into my seat. As I was doing this my left foot stepped on some wet newspaper and I slipped and my kneecap dislocated and I, not really knowing what had happened except that I felt like throwing up, involuntarily yelled "SHIT!" really loud. The lady next to me, who had forced me into this situation only glanced upward lightly. As I sat down in my seat it popped back into joint, which was equally as painful and again I let out a scream. Still no help. I sat there wondering what to do? Alert the conductor? Everyone just went right on reading their papers. There was nothing to do except sit there as the train hurled further and further from home. I wasn't sure what I was going to do once I got to Grand Central, if I could even walk. Since I still didn't know what to do once we arrived I sort of limped to the Subway and somehow made my way down to NYU. I figured out that I could limp-walk ok, but stairs were almost impossible. It must have taken me about 20 minutes to get up to the street from the subway (Why didn't I just take a cab?) When I finally made it to my class building I had to find the old rickety elevator because I knew I couldn't make it up the four flights of old, narrow stairs with people pouring down them. Well, of course, this elevator was taking FOREVER to come and some girl actually had the nerve to make a comment on her way to the stairs about those of us waiting for the elevator along the lines of "Why don't you just take the stairs! Get some exercise!" I just wanted to cry. But I didn't. What did I do? I went to class and sat there in pain for an hour and a half and then began the whole painful process home. Because I am an idiot.

[Nancy]

Oh, the joys of the NYC subway. I have sincere, unabashed love for public transportation and I love not having to deal with a car, but boy howdy, there is a lot of humanity to deal with. The dancing kids (who do back flips and spins and fancy moves with the pole), the insane evangelicals who work themselves into a froth yelling at the entire car about damnation, the mariachi bands, the homeless advocates, the creepy guy who accidentally "bumps" into you, the moms struggling with strollers and babies, the nice old man who offers you a seat.

My worst/best was when the train was being "momentarily delayed because of train traffic ahead" and I had to spend twenty minutes listening to the "neo-soul" styles of guy named "Sacrifice" who loudly sang a cappella songs/poems he'd composed for Jesus.

[andrea_jennine]

I spent one summer with a study-abroad program in England. During one of our days in London, some fellow students and I were riding the Tube home from an evening out. A huge soccer match had just let out, so we were packed like standing sardines into a train full of drunken soccer fans. Everybody was jostling each other, but the guy standing behind me seemed to be jostling in an unusual way. I shifted away as much as possible, but there really wasn't any room to move. When we reached our stop and I exited the train... there was a jelly-like whitish substance on my jeans. I was pretty sure I knew what it was, and I was appalled. Appalled. After getting married a couple years later, I was able to confirm identification of the substance.

[PomJob]

There must be a group home farther up the bus route from my stop, because there's usually one or two people who are differently-abled.

Several weeks ago I had to stand on a SEPTA bus bound for Philly. One such lady was standing next to me, and complimented my purse. She then goes on to tell me a tale full of intrigue, bureaucracy and murder involving herself, a handbag, a purse snatcher, a knife taped to her forearm, a murder charge, and the kindness of the mayor's wife who championed to get the woman released from jail. Luckily she got off after about a mile, but now I know to never, ever touch that lady's handbag again. But I still don't know if the story is true.

[andrea]

I am waiting with baited breath for the next installment. You are so freaking funny!

I rarely take public transportation during commute time, so instead of the business crowd I am lucky enough to ride with the homeless who use the busses as their daytime shelter or tourists, the interaction between the two make for some entertaining times.

[Cheryl]

I rode the train daily in Chicago for approximately 15 years and I lost count of the number of times I had been flashed. Apparently, there are a large number of men who like riding around the CTA with their johnsons hanging out for all the world to see.

[Maggie]

I lived in Minneapolis in college. During my senior year I did an internship in downtown St. Paul. From my apartment at the time, I had to take a bus to downtown Minneapolis and then catch an express bus to downtown St. Paul. It was abotu 5:30 at night and I was waiting in downtown Minneapolis to catch my bus home. I got on the bus when it arrived, along with a very suspicious-looking couple. (they were acting strangely, looking over their shoulders, whispering, etc.) About five minutes after we started moving, our bus was surrounded by about five police cars. They were pulling us over.
The bus driver, perplexed, pulled over and about 10 officers with guns jumped on the bus and screamed for everyone to put their arms up in the air. The strange couple, meanwhile, was at the back of the bus, trying desparately to open the back door to get out. They finally manage to get out of the bus and they are eventually tackled outside and arrested. Apparently the couple had shot someone on another bus and had used our bus as a getaway. The police officers thanked us and jumped off the bus and we continued on our way. After that everyone went back to their books like nothing had happened. It was crazy! I couldn't believe everyone was so nonchalant about it!

[Trilby]

Had to take a taxi from New Orleans to Baton Rouge because my car got stolen. I think I was 20.

The whole time the cabbie was hitting on me in a very suggestive manner that really made me want to get out of the car in the middle of nowhere and walk the rest of the way home. I had a death grip on my pepper spray the whole 2 hour ride. I made him drop me off about a mile from my house and I walked the rest of the way because he just freaked me out that bad.

The next morning I called the cab company and gave them his name and license number (it was displayed in the cab) and the cab number and complained.

(found this out couple of weeks later when I followed up with the company)The cab company hadn't done a background search yet and that night was his first night. He was a felon, a CONVICTED SEX OFFENDER. I've never been in a cab since.

That was my first and last public transport experience. (even though it's not really "public transportation") I still get chills every time I think about it.

[Manda]

I don't have a public transportation story that I can remember, but once I drove a golf cart into a lake when I was a camp counselor in Maine. But perhaps I should save that story for the DRIVE? :)

[Amanda]

I just found your blog recently and I was cracking up all weekend reading the archives. My husband kept asking what was so funny and I said "Oh honey...I finally found someone who appreciates my house hunters complaints."

Anyway, I went to college in Boston and I always had a love/hate relationship with the poles. I'm way too short to even think about holding the monkey bar handle things, so I have to get in on the pole. Do I stand close and risk people thinking I'm a hog (plus strange germs)? Do I stand far away with my arm extended and risk losing my spot? It was a continual dilemma.

Did you know that subway musicians actually have to have a license in Paris? I had no idea until recently. I seriously think that should be instituted here. There is nothing worse than standing on a platform, hot and miserable, and having to deal with that noise pollution. Makes me WANT to get on a crowded train and do a pole jokey for spot dance.

[Becky]

I lived in Chicago when I went to school--before I became a boring suburbanite--and used the El to travel around.

I don't know if it was a dream, or I was hammered or what, but I swear to you that I saw a sign that had a picture of a dude peeing on the third rail (where the electricity is) and a little diagram of him being electrocuted.

If it was a dream, it was the best ever, and if it was real, even better.

Might I suggest Youtubing the Jackass sketch "Metro Bunny?" I think you will laugh.

[KNP19]

One time I was on the el in Chicago and a young girl (teenage-ish age?) was riding with her mom and a chicken in her lap. She had a rag with her to mop up the messes the chicken made but there was nothing she could do about the smell. Being the city girl that I am, I was horrified. Where did she get a chicken in the city? Where was she taking the chicken? The only 'good' thing was this was pre-bird flu scare otherwise I would have totally lost it (I am somewhat germaphobic like that).

[Airlie]

I was riding the Red Line one Sunday afternoon shortly after I had moved to DC. I looked up from reading my book and I saw a man with a somewhat unusual expression on his face. That's when I realized that his girlfriend was doing him a "favor".

[Kristin]

Oh Emily, you crack me up. This entry reminded me of the time that I was taking a Red Line train during morning rush hour, reading the Express and adopting the I-don't-need-to-hold-the-pole-thanks wide stance...until the train swayed a little too much and I fell right over. Into a LAP. The lap of a man in a WHEELCHAIR. Fortunately, he couldn't have been nicer as I stammered out my apologies in front of the whole crowded train. I got off at the next stop with my ears burning, and then promptly started laughing at myself twenty seconds later. I mean, you have to laugh, right?

[Suzanne]

When I lived in San Francisco I had to go into work on a Saturday and on my way I stopped to get a coffee and a scone before getting on the bus. At my bus stop (in Chinatown) a group of oh, I don't know, 500 people bum rushed me as I was getting off (queueing up isn't that popular in Asia) sending my coffee and scone flying and pushing me over the edge so that I started screaming about waiting for people to get OFF the bus before you start getting ON the bus. No one paid attention to me and continued to walk on me, my scone, and my coffee to get their damn seat on the bus.

[Karen]

I don't have a cool public transportation story, because when you grow up out in the boonies you don't get to ride public transit.

However, I do have a school bus story. I went to a private Catholic high school in the big city; the local school district (in the boonies) agreed to bus all of us snooty private high school kids to the big city. Sometimes we had a little bus--you know, the short bus. Sometimes, not often, we had a big, regular sized school bus, which was hilarious, considering at most we had about eight or ten kids riding it.

One afternoon we were riding the bus home to the boonies, through the downtown area. Our bus driver, a grizzled old lady who we all agreed probably drank, suddenly said, "Now, there's a horse's---" THUD. Screech of brakes. We had run into one of the horses the mounted policemen used downtown.

A HORSE. Which would have been understandable out, say, by my grandpa's farm, but not downtown. The poor horse got spooked by something, backed up into traffc, and our bus driver ran smack into the horse's rump. The horse fell down on its rider, breaking the guy's leg, and then barreled down towards the river.

That poor horse. To this day I can't see a school bus without thinking about that horse.

[Grace]

Ug. I can feel your pain, Emily. I fall down a lot in foreign countries when taking public transportation. In college I lived in Rennes, France and took the bus every day. One day after school some of my friends and I decided to go into the center of town and get a drink. We were on one of those buses that has two segments and in the middle there is a round area that pivots. There are bars there and it's normal to stand there. Well as usual we were being obnoxious Americans and speaking only in English REALLY LOUD, because what other way would we endear ourselves to our host country? All of a sudden the bus stops to avoid a car pulling out in front of it. I only have my arm hooked around the pole, concentrating more on blabbing than holding on. I fall face first onto the floor as the bus screeches to a halt. No sooner had I hit the floor full force than did I pop back up as the bus recoiled from the abrupt halt.

I was so surprised that I was rendered speechless for the rest of the ride. My friends could not stop laughing and reenacting the moment for the entire evening.

It happened so quick that no one would have known that I'd fallen except for the giant blue black mark on the inside of my arm. At the time I was indignant. Now I just laugh my fool head off.

[Superfantastic]

I got stuck once on the Blue Line while under the Potomac. It was winter and we were crammed in and I was of course standing and did not have even enough room to be able to take off my coat. And I had hate in my heart for all of the sitting people, not even so much because they were sitting as because they had space around them. One woman near me started having a bit of a claustrophobic freak out, to which a man responded by pointing out that we were under the river. Helpful!

I also saw a man on the NY subway one time who had what had to be a 6-8 foot snake just wrapped around him. People moved away from him, but nobody freaked out and when I got to work and told my students about it, none of them seemed to find it odd.