Ever since I can remember I've been a commuter. There are a myriad of reasons: no car, no money to fix a car, no need for a car, self-appointed environmental savior. I've lived in cities that have highly functioning public transportation (love you San Francisco) and cities that don't (I'm talking to you, Denver/Boulder). I love public transportation. I hate pubic transportation. It makes be a better person. It makes me a grumpy, vile person. In any case, allowing a Virgo to use public transportation makes for a tale of erratic proportions.
I went to a Catholic grade school that was 6 blocks away from me, so I walked. No matter what the weather. I wanted to be dropped off in the U-shaped driveway in front of my brick, ivy covered school like all my friends, but my mother insisted my younger sister and I were walking. Through snow, rain, and desperately hot Missouri summers, we walked in our plaid jumpers, which inevitably ended up at school either soaked, frozen or sweated through.
In high school I didn't get a car. No biggie. I was dying to take the bus. All the cool kids did. However, just when I thought commuting was about to pay off in popularity, my parents moved out of my childhood home, conveniently located on a bus route, and moved to the country to their "dream house." I had to bum a ride off a friend who made me late everyday. Tardiness lead to detention. Detention lead to missed ride home. Missed ride home lead to calling my Granny to come pick me up. Total popularity killer.
I lived in an awesome college town -
Lawrence, KC. I had a killer orange Trek mountain bike that got me everywhere I wanted to go. I was a bike commuter before bike commuting was even trendy. Class. Concerts. Bars. Burrito King. Booty calls. I never really wanted to go home, so I didn't need a car to travel the 60 miles. Less money on gas meant more money for Quarter Draws. In hindsight, I biked a lot. How I gained 10 lbs, I'll never know.
I moved to Denver, CO, after college. I had a clunker of a car, nicknamed "The Duster". It spent most of it's time parked in front of my apartment due to breakdown and/or parking tickets. It seized up in the middle of a street one incredibly snowy day in December 2000 and the decision to be a full-time commuter was made for me. I took the
Colfax bus into downtown where I transfered to the free 16th Street [pedestrian] Mall Shuttle, and then walked 3 blocks to work, thinking all the way how awesomely urban I was. Career lady using the bus.
Then, I moved to the glorious urban metropolis of San Francisco. Home of the greatest public transportation on the West Coast! Busses, light rails and trains that put everywhere else I had lived to shame. Every day was a happy day thanks to the
MUNI and
BART. I lived in Russian Hill all 4 years of my short tenure in SF, and was a rider of many of the most famous bus lines.
The 30 started in the Marina - the whitest neighborhood in San Francisco, full of J.Crew clad, BMW driving, WASPs. It traveled through North Beach, here it usually picked up wide-eyed tourists and someone saturated in urine. Then through Chinatown where it dodged delivery trucks showcasing their pink pig carcasses. Picked up mini-Asian-octogenarians with their pink grocery bags carrying live fish, that had no problem pushing and shoving their way through the max capacity bus to get a seat. Then through the Stockton Tunnel where everyone breathed in fumes of Oakland commuters. Then, finally dumped off in Union Square. The 30X also started in the Marina, but in order the spare the white-bred, burgeousie Marina crowd from mingling with commoners, it took an express route directly into the Financial District. The 30X was notoriously the "hook-up" bus, where men/women, men/men, and women/women cast longing, flirtatious glances at each other, developed secret crushes and exchanged numbers and email addresses only to have an unfortunate hook-up experience forcing one of them to switch bus routes. The very colorful 1 started in Pacific Heights - without fail one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in SF, then picked me up on Polk Street in Russian Hill - the workingman/woman's neighborhood full of 20 & 30-somethings just living the dream. Then it went over the top of Nob Hill, the second oldest and wealthiest neighborhood in the city, where it picked up old money, clad in Chanel and usually grouchy. Then down through Chinatown, this time avoiding the pig trucks, but picking up the Dim Sum gatherers, then into the Financial District. At first, my mouth hung down to my knees when I rode the bus. But, then I got used to it, and learned how to fight the pink bags for good bus position.
From San Francisco, I moved to Seattle, where one would think there was public transportation options galore. I don't know, maybe it's just me, but from afar, Seattle seems like a progressive, green city. It's not. God love Seattle, they're still voting (read: fighting) to take the irrelevant
Monorail and make it useful for a city built to hold a couple hundred thousand people than now holds over a mill. There are busses powered by electricity, and clean fuel busses. But, not so direct routes and somewhat ishy timetables. In a city plagued by rain for 9 months a year, might be nice to have a reliable mode of public transportation. Gentleman Husband and I were determined to live with only one car. So, he being a human unable to handle to stress of public transportation (credit, he took busses in SF, where they actually worked) drove to work and I bussed it from Queen Anne to Downtown Seattle. Many times arriving either sprayed by bus backwash or frazzled and sweaty from walking because the bus just never showed up. When we moved to
Ravenna (the cityburbs, as we liked to call it), commuting to my job in Capital Hill became an issue. I would have to take two busses to get to work - incidentally at an office hellbent on starting the work day at 8 a.m. Bus - 45 minutes. Car - 10 minutes. Though buying a car seemed like the logical solution to this problem, I decided to Stand for Something and prove Seattle public transportation worked.
It didn't go so well. I fought the bus daily, and riders who didn't understand bus protocol, and the rain. But, I did it. I did it because I thought one CrazyVirgo on the bus was one less car.
In the middle of Seattle, I did some time in Chicago. For all it's Oprah fans and sports fans, it's a city that knows public transportation. I love that El. It got me to work in 15 minutes flat, no delays, no late trains. I could set my watch by the arrival and departure of the Blue Line. No matter where I needed to go in the city, I found a El stop within 3 blocks and utilized a train system that only took a pre-school education level to understand. Sweet.
Now, I live in Boulder, CO. Boulder is small enough that I can walk or ride a cruiser bike wherever I need to go, and Boulderites would rather I did that than pollute their crystal clean air with my car. Fine. That doesn't solve the problem that I live approximately 25 miles from my office. Again, Gentleman Husband and I stuck with one car. He, a mere 7 miles from his office, yet with unpredictable office hours. Me, a 50 mile roundtrip with pretty standard office hours. What are a couple of misplaced urbanites to do? Yep, get a used 1992 Audi 100. Obviously. For some reason, Gentleman Husband has a long-standing love affair with Audis. It's his second older Audi. I liked it. It was fashionably vintage. It got me to and from Denver in the winter. In the summer, I joined the ranks of hipsters with a 10-speed Centurion bike pimped out with hot pink bar tape, and did a bike-bus-bike commute. It was a drag, at first, getting up early to leave the house at 7:30 a.m., ride 4 miles, take the bus, ride 10 blocks, and start the work day sweaty. But, I love Mother Earth and the extra savings in my bank account, so I did it. Sacrificed hundreds of incredibly stylish summer outfits that weren't bike-to-work friendly, and hugged Mama Earth every day.
Then, the Audi left me stranded in late winter. So, I got a VW Rabbit, and fell head over heels in love.
Zippy, white stick shift, comfortable, match my personality in love with this car.
Now, it's almost Summer again, and I'm torn. My Centurion is waiting in the garage for me to dust it off and get back on. But, I loathe the sweaty commute to and fro. This summer, I've purchased commuter clothes, combating the arrival home in my work clothes completely sweat through. But, that doesn't help that fact that I'm a stylish lady. I live for heels and haircuts and Sephora. All things that don't exactly work with a bike commute. It's just not so fun to haul my morning regime to work with meon my back every day. On the other hand, I get exercise without fail, twice a day, and save gas, and there's one less car on the road. What's a stylish, environment-loving, wanna-be commuter to do?
Not sure. In any case, I've gotta go catch the bus.
