Happy Thursday to anyone who may have stumbled upon my blog site and welcome! I’m trying to build my writing resume, so I did some research and all hands point to writing a blog as a good place to start. So here it is. My very first entry for rants n@. I hope you enjoy, and come back often!
Speaking of rants…and pants…as many Pittsburgher’s do every morning, my life and work have provided me with ample opportunity to put on my big girl pants and board the bus each day to travel from the western suburbs of Pittsburgh to my office downtown. Many of you know the joys I get to experience on a daily basis, but just in case, for those of you afforded the luxury of traveling solo in an air conditioned vehicle on your way to your reserved (and probably paid for) spot at the local parking garage, let me enlighten you.
I know that’s not fair, there are probably lots of nice people driving around in BMWs, right?
Anyway, each morning, after I rush out the door five minutes later than I intended and work up a sweat running down the street to catch the PAT bus that’s running two minutes early, I make it just in time. I’m gasping for air as I try to stop my purse from yanking my hair out while the straps slide down my shoulder. I make sure I make eye contact with the bus driver and say hello, even though he’s never said hello back to me, much less cracked a smile in the two months I’ve been catching this particular bus. I swipe my card and begin walking all the way to the back of the bus because miraculously, there are two seats still available. I have to do this quickly, though, to avoid being launched into someone’s lap, as the driver goes from 0 to 100 in about 30 seconds flat. I take my seat next to a young man who’s head is snapping back and forth violently as he tries not to fall completely into REM sleep. I wedge myself in the seat and try not to make physical contact with him, but it’s nearly impossible since he’s sitting with his legs spread as far apart as they can possibly go, leaving me with about 6″ of room that I can fit half of my ass on – the edge of the seat now wedged up my ass crack. Why do guys sit like this? I mean, I don’t expect them to cross their legs – I get that they’ve got some stuff happening down there that could get a little uncomfortable – but it’s ridiculous, and rude, to take up almost all of a two-seat chair for the sake of comfortable balls. It’s not like they’re suffering from scrotal elephantiasis or anything. I know, because I looked it up and it’s non-existent in the U.S. But, I digress. I spend the next 20 minutes of the trip gently elbowing the guy as he continuous his pattern of nodding off to sleep and falling onto my shoulder, all while his legs do the unthinkable and spread even further apart. At this point, I think I should have just stood.
As the bus continues on its route, I have to concentrate on not biting my tongue on accident every time the bus plows through a pothole at warp speed. My chest is literally bouncing up and down so much, I’m afraid the girls might give me a black eye. And, I’m not even well-endowed. I think I should have taken some Pepto-Bismol or something before I boarded the bus, because this particular bus driver was too lazy to return the bus to it’s normal state after lowering half of it to let passengers on. Every time he makes a slight turn, it feels like we’re defying gravity and I have to grasp the pole so I won’t fall out of the seat I’m already precariously perched on.
(That’s a Maryland bus, not Pittsburgh – but wouldn’t it be more appropriate here with the pigeons on the front! UPDATE: I’m aware that those are seagulls, but maybe Pittsburgh needs to start its own marketing campaign featuring the adorable pigeon!)
Finally, we arrive at the Ft. Pitt Bridge with it’s glorious view of bridges, stadiums, the river, and the skyline, but I can’t look at it, because it makes me nauseous watching all of the traffic play chicken with our lopsided bus at a single point where cars are trying to merge left and we’re trying to merge right. If I prayed at all, I’d say a prayer, but I don’t, so I just gnash my teeth and try not to look completely terrified. The other passengers probably think I am crazy.
After 25 minutes of sheer terror, we reach my stop. I stand near the door preparing to exit, facing sideways, legs hip level apart, grasping the pole with a death grip so I don’t get launched when the heavy-footed bus driver (I think purposefully) slams on the brakes at my stop. By the time I exit the bus, though, having experienced all of that, I’m grateful to be alive and ready for another productive day in the office. Thanks to the Port Authority for helping me to appreciate the value of life!