Give Us This Day

My morning view from the Light Rail...

Our daily bread.

Good Morning!

Infinite Possibilities

Under the city of Seattle is the tunnel built for public transportation. It is dry here when it is raining up above. That is how I found the tunnel, looking for a dry place to wait for the bus. This week the tunnel became a little of a metaphor. Or at least it added to an idea that has taken the forefront of my brain space lately.

"There are infinite paths to happiness. Don't sweat it."

Me ~ 2011

There are six different buses all going downtown at ten minute intervals each - every weekday morning. Of those, I chose one, the one that is right in front of me. There is no need to wait for the next bus, even on principle, it is the same as this bus. I have umpteen connections I can make once I reach downtown. I can take a bus, or the light rail. I can walk a block or two to make a quicker connection, or to not make a quicker connection (sometimes its cool to just hang around). In the end, there are three different bus routes that swing past my workplace. After all the options, and routes, timetables and cityscapes, it is one of three buses that will deliver me to the door of where I work. Most weeks I cannot catch the same driver twice. Traffic changes everyday. Timetables are guidelines only. It is an infinite mix of possibilities.

And so it is with life.

Bifurcation vs. Articulation

We have buses here in Seattle that carry me from one county to another. They are usually wonderful, warm, comfortable places to be in traffic or otherwise. Lately, and after some rather harrowing bus rides, I'm finding the bifurcated buses not as comfortable. It's beginning to flavor my decisions on how I get home. I prefer to wait for a non-bifurcated bus.

The buses are not actually called bifurcated. They are called articulated. I've attached the dictionary definitions to these two words. Essentially, bifurcation means pretty much just one thing - divide or fork into two branches. That's it. That's what these buses are like. They are two part buses - with the back end swinging separately from the front to enable it to negotiate corners more effectively.

Articulated - this throws me for a loop. What does articulation have to do with a two part bus? I mean these buses belch. But, they don't speak. They don't use language at all, never mind articulating clearly. Okay, the belch counts - but is that truly articulate?

So why, for gods sake, are these buses called articulated buses and not bifurcated?

I do understand why, in today's liberalist society, we do not call these buses "jointed". That term may never work (with a straight face).

Have I whined about this already? That's how much this bothers me...

Bifurcation = to divide or fork into two branches.

Articulation = 1.uttered clearly in distinct syllables.
2. capable of speech; not speechless.
3. using language easily and fluently; having facility with words: an articulate speaker.
4. expressed, formulated, or presented with clarity and effectiveness: an articulate thought.
5. made clear, distinct, and precise in relation to other parts: an articulate form; an articulate shape; an articulate area.
6. (of ideas, form, etc.) having a meaningful relation to other parts: an articulate image.
7. having parts or distinct areas organized into a coherent or meaningful whole; unified: an articulate system of philosophy.
8. Zoology . having joints or articulations; composed of segments. (Oh - this one....got it. Hmmm, still don't like it.)

Redeeming Bus Rides

Bus rides...usually my favorite time of day. I get serious meditations done. I get eye candy with all the activities going on outside the bus windows. I get novels read. After the bus ride from hell on Monday night - six and half hours of gridlock, icy road conditions, 27 mile an hour sideways blowing snow and no book to delve into - I wasn't too keen on getting on the bus tonight. Bus riding has been redeemed. Just have to get back on the horse and ride, so to speak.

The young lady sitting next to me was wholly interesting. Youth. Youth has a great optimism otherwise forgotten over time. Really, the conversation was nothing. We discussed the virtues of crock-pots and having friends over for dinner, for no damn reason. We got onto the subject of work. She's in training to be a psychiatrist. She's working while she works on her masters (as everyone is here in this town). I don't know what possessed me to tell her something I truly believe. People want two things - to be recognized; to know they've been seen, acknowledgement if you will and they want to be heard: listen, just hear them out, listen to the whole story without interruption or judgement. I get a lot of thank you's at work for just letting these people tell me their troubles. I can't do much about it. But, I let them talk. And I listen. Esther had not heard it put this way before. Is she that young? Maybe. I could see she was putting the ideas into her head for future use - whatever that may be.

Between you and I, at home, I appreciate those times of comfortable silence among the people I love. Then I know all is well. I wonder if I gauge life's contentment in those moments of silence. If one is compelled to be silent does that mean one is content? Maybe that's what I seek. Is this too Zen? It is pleasant, regardless.

If Hell freezes over...

It will look like Seattle yesterday.

I've searched YouTube this morning already. During my six and a half hour bus ride home from work yesterday - got on the downtown bus at 5:17 p.m., got off the bus at the Park and Ride at 11:48 p.m. - the bus driver asked for volunteers to push the bus to get us up a slight incline so we could get on the parkway (oh, I mean freeway). "Anybody wanna push?" We all laughed with the bus driver. Then he said, "I'm serious." and opened the back door. About 15 or 20 young men unloaded from the bus and went around back to push. It was making a difference - believe it or not. (Twenty young men pushing a massive articulated bus, this still blows my mind.) But not enough of a difference.

The driver then said, "Anyone wanna move to the back of the bus? We need some weight over the back tires." I left my seat, I had felt so lucky to actually have a seat, and stood over the rear tires with so many others on the bus. I watched a young man put his hat under the rear tire to give some traction. It actually helped. Out the other side of the bus I saw two young men standing in the sideways sleeting snow filming the event on their phones.

I'll keep searching YouTube. It's got to show up eventually.

(Yes, I got my seat back. Yes, we got going and the young men had to run up to the ever slow moving bus to jump back on board. Yes, I am staying home today. I had enough yesterday.)

Welcome to the Metro Fitness Program

As is my usual MO when I see my bus coming I break into a jog. Somehow just seeing my bus, well, it’s hard to not want to catch it. I have the morning schedule worked out. If I leave the house at 6:10 am I don’t need to run for the bus. I don’t need to stand around the kiosk for very long either. Once I get into downtown I have to keep my eyes open. If Mr. M got on the bus when I did then it takes some additional time to load and unload the scooter that is his wheelchair (damn, those scooters are fast). If Mr. M is not riding the bus then I can get an earlier connection, but not always.
Coming home is a completely different game. I never get out of the building the same time twice. The buses going past work at the end of the day are more erratic than those in the morning. The schedule is posted at the bus stop; but we all know that is for show and has no basis in reality.
Yesterday I was strolling on the sidewalk after work making my way to the bus stop when I see my bus coming up the street toward me. I’m on the wrong side of the street and I have at least a half a block to go before I get to the designated stop. I start jogging. I cross the street and jog a little faster. I come up to the bus waiting for me at this point and the driver says, “There’s one trouble maker every day. You must be it.”
I pay my fare and hoping I am in good snappy retort mode I reply, “Nah, I’m just trying to get my exercise in.”
“Ah, you’ve joined the Metro Fitness Program. Good to have you on board.”
Some drivers are good with the comebacks.

Outwitting the Weather AND Metro!

There is construction blocking my favorite bus stop downtown. I will have to walk either two blocks north or three blocks south in order to catch my usual bus. I am so adept at bus riding now, what with knowing the Metro System AND the Sound System I am Bi-metro. (When I figure out Pierce and Kitsap Counties I will be Tri- and eventually so advanced as to be considered Quad-Metro. In the meantime...) I can now pick my bus and my bus-stop to best suit my requirements for either proper Downtown Seattle sight-seeing or immediate pick-up and getting home the absolute quickest way possible. Am I becoming a bus-snob? I never would have thought that possible. Not moi....To most of you I am sure the above scene looks like any bus or transit platform in any metropolitan area you care to name. (Okay, so it is) I would like to point out, dear readers, that this transit platform...pause...wait for it...is dry. Yes, my dear readers. This is a non-wet, dry platform.
So is this one....
And this shiny one is dry too.
And the final transit platform before we come out of the downtown tunnel system - yes, this too is dry.

I get comfort, speed and a veritable plethora of options (okay, just four) for dry platforms throughout this fine city.

Maybe tomorrow I will post the story of the Friday downpour, the speeding bus, the curbside tidal wave and how spontaneous crowd reactions are still available among the commuter crowd.

Until then, please stay dry.