My Life is Average: A Bus Trip

                I decided to go home this weekend to visit my boyfriend, Jeff, and my parents. Since I have a later class on Friday and need to take public transport to get home, I felt rushed as soon as said class ended, and almost ran to the bus stop. Last week the SEIU Local 2 Union for the Hospitality staff at the school was on strike, which affected meals offered on campus and which eating locations were open on campus as well. Along with my mandatory eating rituals having been disrupted, the city busses that regularly pass through campus didn’t enter at all because the strikers were blocking the entrances to the school roads. This proved to be very inconvenient, as I will explain in a bit. So once I got to my city bus-stop destination, I had to embarrassingly ask other people about to board if it went downtown to the GO-Transit station, none of them seemed to know. So, I got on the bus anyways. Luckily, I had enough street-savvy knowledge to ask the bus driver where the bus was headed: downtown. Thank God!

                After having safely arrived at the GO Station, I briskly walked through the station and out onto the platform, hoping that my bus would already be there and ready to board. To my disappointment, not only was there no bus in sight, but there was a line-up of people from platform 10 until platform 16, so about 150 people. My stomach dropped. I needed to get on to this bus so that I would be able to transfer at Union station and make it home by 9 to go on a date with Jeff before the place closed at 11. Sighing, I walked down to the end of the line and waited. I stood there trying to figure out why the heck the line up was so long because it hadn’t ever been like that on a Friday night when I was trying to get home before. Two busses bound for different destinations had come in, picked up some people in this super-long line-up, and left.  As I was staring down at my cell phone, texting Jeff about my dismay, I saw a GO Bus enter the station out of the corner of my eye. It said that it was coming from Union Station, but it didn’t park in the correct spot. I asked the girl behind me to save my spot and asked the driver if the bus was going back to Union, he just shook his head to say no, so I returned to my spot in line. After thinking about it for a little while longer, I realized that it was because of the strike that all of the buses were clogged at this one GO-Station. Since the strikers were blocking the entrances to campus, the buses couldn’t pick people up in their usual spots. So, all of the commuters had to go to the GO-Station instead.

                At that point I was a little relieved, but still nervous that I wouldn’t make it on to the Union bus because there were still a lot of people in line before me. Finally, the bus bound for Union had arrived. It parked right in front of the line up as expected, too. I sized up the line; there were just as many people in front of me as there were behind me and I didn’t think that we would all fit on to the one bus. People around me were talking about how they would need to send a second bus for the number of commuters who needed to board, and I assumed it wouldn’t be the one that was already there, since I had asked the driver himself. The Union bus began to board. Panicking slightly as the seats began to fill up, I got closer and closer to the entrance. Eventually, and to my great luck, I made it to the entrance and on to the bus. I was the last person the driver allowed on, because at that point we had to stand. So, the five or so people who got on before me and I ended up standing on the jerky, wobbly bus while it lurched to and fro on its way to the station. I was happy that I decided to wear running shoes and bring less luggage than I normally would have.

                Eventually I got to Union, and had to transfer to another bus. I thought that this bus would be my last one, but I asked people around me if I would have to transfer anyways. Most of them said, again, that they didn’t know, but one person around my age said that he was going to the same place as me, and I wouldn’t have to transfer. After thinking about it for a while, I decided that it was probably a better idea to ask the bus driver if I needed to transfer before it was too late. Low and behold, I had to. Panicking once again, I scrambled off the bus and on to the next one. Finally, I was set for the rest of my trip. What a day.

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