Hating the bus goes global: Chicago, USA

Meet Malori. She's one of us. She takes the train. These are her stories.

My  name is Malori and I’m a student in Chicago, Illinois.  My main mode of transportation is the “L” which is our elevated subway system.  I’ve lived here for almost three years and in my time on the trains and busses I’ve experienced some seriously odd sights, sounds, and smells.  Rather than sharing one story I thought I’d share my top 5 best public transit stories of all time.  Going in order from least offensive to most offensive—let’s kick things off, shall we?!

This is how the “L” looks--image source

5) For number five I simply want to draw attention to the way the subway smells: sort of a mix between high-powered cleaning supplies, drunk-person vomit/piss, old food, and sweat.  Some cars are worse than others but for the most part it is a seriously unappealing smell.  My freshman year of school I went on a field trip with one of my classes.  We hopped on a train and suddenly realized that a woman sitting in the car had peed… All. Over. The. Train.  At the next stop we leapt over the puddle of urine and into the next car over.  I showered immediately when I got back to my apartment.

4) The train is not always reliable.  Sometimes trains fall behind schedule or have to run express due to overcrowding.  Earlier this year I waited for a train home from work for at least 30 minutes.  Three trains on the tracks heading the opposite direction came and left in the time I was waiting.  I finally got on and we went ONE STOP before the conductor announced the train would be running express to a stop that was WAY farther than I needed to go.  After all of that waiting I ended up having to walk home.

3) Public transportation gets REALLY crowded during the summer in Chicago.  This is a problem because everyone is already sweating and miserable from the crazy humid weather we have then we’re crushed like sardines into the train cars, which just exacerbates the problem.  Over the summer I was heading home from some shopping and decided I’d rather take the train than walk the few miles home.  I squeezed onto a car and waited until we reached my stop.  The whole ride I kept feeling like the guy behind me was WAY too close but it’s difficult to tell if someone is being creepy or if there really just isn’t any space so I decided not to say anything.  Finally, the train got to my stop.  As I went to step off, the man behind me took the opportunity to full-on grab my ass.  Apparently he thought it was totally okay because I couldn’t see who he was.  This is not the only time someone has groped me on the train.

2) Sometimes the “L” doesn’t take me where I need to go and I have to hop on the real train (the “choo-choo” variety).  This is a different experience than the “L” because it’s generally more quiet, people have a bit more space, and have to stay on for longer.  This train is called the Metra in Chicago—I have to take it when I visit my brother who goes to school about an hour outside of the city.  One night my roommate and I were heading back downtown on the Metra after spending some time at my brother’s school.  We got on and sat down on the upper-level across the aisle from a guy who was loudly rapping.  Not long after sitting down, the rap-star wannabe makes his way over to our seats.  He gets too close to me, says something incomprehensible, then sits on my lap and puts his arm around me.  Ummm… who does that?  Seriously?

My roommate and I had been drinking so rather than helping me, she is laughing so hard she cannot breathe.  As this stranger sits on my lap, he begins to tell me about the music he is rapping to which sounds something like this, “mother fucking nigga bitch…”  After a couple minutes he attempts to put one of his headphones in my ear so I can listen along.  I am really grossed out by other people’s headphones and there is NO way a stranger is putting their headphone into my ear.  I keep pointing to the empty seat in front of me and asking if he’d like to get off my lap.  Rap-star is having none of it—apparently my lap is far more comfortable than the empty seat.  For the next 25 minutes he stays on my lap rapping to me and attempting to put his headphones in my ears.  I spent those minutes trying to get him off of my lap and blocking his attempts to make me listen to his music.  Finally he stands up, tells me to have a nice night, and goes on his way.  I don’t even have words to explain how ridiculous the entire experience was.  This also resulted in an immediate shower upon returning to my apartment.  Some people are crazy…

1) My number one story is actually my dad’s story.  My dad comes up to visit my brother and I quite often and is no stranger to horrible public transit experiences.  One night he was riding the Metra from Chicago to the suburbs that house my brother’s school.  A white woman sat down on the train next to a black gentleman.  Apparently she wasn’t happy with her seating options so she pulled the conductor aside and complained about having to sit next to someone who is black.  This woman must not have been to bright because the conductor she was complaining to was also black.  Also, it’s no longer the 1800’s…  I’m 100% sure that sitting next to someone who is black is no different than sitting next to someone who is white/purple/yellow/brown/teal/etc.  If you’re racist and refuse to sit next to someone who is a different color than you, drive.  She failed to realize that she’s an idiot and continued to complain to the conductor.  At the next stop, they politely asked her to get off of the train.  If I was the conductor, I can’t say I would have been so polite…

So those are my top five public transit horror stories.  It’s not all bad but it’s definitely not something I enjoy doing.  I’m so happy to have had the chance to share with all of you!  I can’t wait to read the other posts from ladies who also hate public transit—these stories always crack me up.

To hear more from me, stop by my blog Sunday Morning Sugar.  I cook, craft, and dress all fancy-like even though I don’t do many fancy things.  It’s good times all around!

HAHAHA wow. Thanks Malori! 

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If you want to participate in the public transit hate-fest, have any stories to share, have any tips for surviving the bus or just want to vent, please email me at novaisawesome(at)gmail(dot)com.

Hating the bus goes global: SCOTLAND

 Meet Amii. She's one of us. A bus rider. Here is her story.

 

 I live in Central Scotland, in a town between Edinburgh and Glasgow, and outside Stirling. Being beside these major cities, you'd assume the public transport services would be efficient? WRONG. At even the slightest hint of snow or gales the service operators freak out and close everything down. This March, after a really bad winter, we went into total shutdown because the RAIN was heavy. You'd think, considering Scotland's infamous reputation for having four seasons in one day half the time, we'd be used to this and have solutions? Nope.

 So, now I've painted you a lovely picture of where I live, imagine this; I'm standing at a bus stop, in the pouring rain, wind blowing spray into my face, trying to hide under the measly bus shelter, waiting on another bus. Yes, another, as the first one decided waiting for a girl with a pram and screaming, tired baby was just too much and drove past me, and the second switched his 'Not In Service' flag on two minutes before he rolled past. 

 I've already come off another bus to come up to the town centre, and that took me from my 'lovely' little temporary housing flat in the middle of Junkiesville, after I'd waited at the stop 20 minutes listening to two men drunkenly square up to eachother on a Wednesday afternoon, a toddler repeatedly shouting 'SHIT, MUM, LOOK, I'M SAYING SHIT, SHIT CAT, SHIT HOUSE, SHIT DOG, BABY SHIT' or something to that effect, while his mother blabbered away on her phone ignoring him - not that the bus ride was much better, as unfortunately I got stuck next to a handsome fella we nicknamed Captain Gid Hat Glasses Man. (See dictionary definition of 'gid' here; http://gid.urbanup.com/755050, used sarcastically of course...)

 Captain Gid Hat Glasses Man (let's call him Cap'n Specs for short) is an obese, smelly, dirty chap who always wears the same bobble hat with llamas knitted onto it, the same filthy red cardigan, bright green glasses, and trousers that are too big that bare his hairy arse crack, which is always speckled with something I HOPE is dirt. Even breathing through my mouth, I could still feel myself retching because all I can smell is BO, burnt onions and poop. My little boy screamed the whole half hour bus journey, and Phone Woman's little boy is still cursing at the top of his lungs. 

 Back to the beginning of the tale now; I'm still at the bus stop. I'm getting more and more pissed off as time goes on, as cars pass, and as my son screams louder. Nothing's calming him down. Eventually, the bus turns up, and the usual process happens; the driver doesn't lower the bus, I struggle to lift the pram on, the bus driver scowls and mutters under his breath after I pay my fare in 20 pence coins, and an elderly woman grumbles about prams taking up disabled spaces (don't get me started, I've fought with this woman over this matter before!). I'm yet again wondering why I'm making this bloody godforsaken journey to my mum's house for dinner, and thinking murderous thoughts about the junkie who's clearly going through his gear in a black bag across from me - it's almost the exact same nightmare every time, like a really bad, expensive recurring dream.

 As we reach the village, the junkie sits next to me. I can practically smell the methadone rolling off him. He comes up close, and then hooks his fingers through my tunnel in my ear and yanks it, pulling me with it, and slurs, "So, wha'ssat fur? Puttin' bottle caps through?"

 Enough is enough, I storm to the front and throw us off the bus, buggy and all, even though my mum's house is still a 15 minute walk away. As I walk, I can feel the frustrations of the day building up, and my eyes tear up. I stop to rest on a wall, put the pram's brakes on, and throw my face into my hands, ready to burst into tears. I feel a little tug on my sleeve, and look up. My little boy is looking at me, his bright blue-green eyes are filled with curiosity and his little button nose is scrunched up as if he's concentrating.

 "What's up, baby boy?" I ask, trying to calm myself. He thinks a little more, looks around, then beams at me as he utters his first word, which makes the day's awful journey with those horrible people, the money problems, and the sadness melt away.

 "Mummy!"

Hurrah!

 One of the worst and best days of my life!

You can find Amii's blog here and she's also on twitter. 

Thanks for sharing, Amii! :) 

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If you want to participate in the global public transit hate-fest, if you have a funny bus story, or any tips and tricks to surviving the proletariot chariot, email me at novaisawesome(at)gmail(dot)com. I'd love to hear your story.

Consider my day made! Crappy portraits!

Have you ever heard of the "free crappy portraits" website? Because it. Is. Amazing. Basically, you send them a picture of yourself with a little description, and someone will draw you. But...not well. Hm, actually, now that I'm looking at the site some of them are AMAZING. So...guess it depends on your artist. Also, if you want, you can volunteer to be a "guest artist" and draw someone else. Which I did. How exciting!

They're going to be featuring my portrait today. Here's the photo I sent them:

Here's the description of us I sent along with the picture:

"This is a photo of me and my best dog ever, Tank. He enjoys long walks around the block, peeing on every plant, and treats. I like books and hate taking the bus. Let me be clear: Tank and I are just friends. We don't like each other "that way", no matter what those kids at school say"

I like how I kind of look like a character from the Archie comics, and she incorporated every single thing I said in my description. Except WE'RE NOT IN LOVE DAMNIT, haha. 

I love the book title. It's all about the details, you know?

If you would like a crappy portrait drawn of you, it's pretty simple. All you have to do is go to freecrappyportraits.com and email them a picture of yourself with a short description. I can't wait to draw my 'guest' post...she likes the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Ding ding ding! And I suck at drawing. It's gonna be hilarious.

YES AND YES INTERVIEW

EE! How exciting! I'm over at Yes and Yes today! I did  this interview with Sarah Von about where I work months ago and kind of forgot about it. Do yourself a favor and check out all of her real life stories. They're fantastic.

I'm over here today!

Thanks again Danielle

for letting me be a part of your fantastic blog!

surprise guest post by Ryan

Surprise Guest Blogger: my boyfriend Ryan


I enjoy the library. Most people use it for books but I prefer to have my own collection of books on the fireplace mantel. I usually use the library to rent DVDs. Hey they are free and you can order almost anything (as long as you're willing to wait 3 months to get it).

Yesterday I was at the library looking at movies and there was a grandma and granddaughter checking out the collection of available DVDs beside me. The 2 year old kept telling her grandma "Up, up, up" but granny was too busy looking at the geriatric ward porn collection (Richard Gere and Antonio Banderas movies!)

"Up, up, up," continued the little girl.

"I'll pick you up in a minute dear," replied granny.

"Up, up, up"

Geez, give the kid some attention, I thought.

Then I saw it. The movie "Up" was on the shelf directly in front of grandma. I was number 212 on the wait list for this (yes, I am too cheap to pay to rent it) and as I stared at the movie I realized the little girl was not reaching for her grandma, she was reaching for "Up"!

"Up, up, up"

Alright, I had enough. I politely asked granny to excuse my reach and picked "Up" off the shelf. With "Up" in my hand and the little girl smiling at me I gave her a smile and a wink and walked away.

As I signed out the movie I had noticed that the little girl had stopped saying "up". You're welcome grandma.

Another random act of kindness. I'm a giver.