MetroRiderLA

According to my clock, the 217 bus was supposed to be here 3 minutes ago. A shiny empty articulated Rapid bus just passed, and boy does it look comfortable. Maybe my clock is off and I just missed the 217 by a minute or two… no matter, according to the Metro Trip Planner I checked this morning, another should be here in 5 minutes. Having said that, it sure would be nice if there was some type of electronic signage that told me when the next bus was scheduled to arrive. (more…)

I come out of my building for the second day in a row only to see my Rapid pulling away in the distance. Whatever, I can wait. As I get closer, I see a regular old normal bus at the stop down the block so I jog up. But as I get closer, I see a mechanic messing around underneath and a fellow in a wheelchair sitting patiently-esque on the lift. Eventually he does what he has to do and our friend is freed! Hooray! We can get on the bus!

No we can’t. The empty bus drives away. So I look back to the Rapid stop and see a slight commotion. A completely different wheelchair-bound fellow has apparently taken a spill off the curb and fire trucks and ambulances are coming for him. It looks like they know what they’re doing.
Up the block from me, I can see my Rapid coming for me so I stroll up to the stop. A 207 passes the Rapid and races to the stop I just came from as the Rapid pulls to a stop. Everyone gets off, and the driver zooms away. So I turn around and run back to the 207.

No problem, There are a ton of people trying to get on. In fact, There’s a bit of pandemoneum as people are jumping into the back door (without even paying!!)
I have a monthly pass and felt no moral conflict with jumping on with them.

Halfway home, the driver stops and hops off the bus for a few minutes, apparently doing some sort of mid-trip repair work.

You don’t get this kind of entertainment sitting in your car on the freeway. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I’m sitting outside of the Federal Building on Wilshire and Veteran looking at four Metro Rapid busses parked in front of me… wait, make that five, a 761 Rapid just joined the flock. The grass looks soft, the best our federal tax dollars can buy, so I take a seat and take in the sun. Must be a Bermuda mix, worth every penny. And it seems like I’m not the only one appreciating the soft grass because to my right is one of the Rapid drivers, a large black woman reading what looks to be one of Tom Clancy’s latest nail biters. To my left is another Rapid driver, and another and another after that. And wouldn’t you know it, here comes that sleek looking 761 to join the party. I smiled at my situation.
5 Rapid busses. 5 Rapid bus drivers. 20 some Rapid riders. And nobody going anywhere. Something seems awry; does it not?

Then I awake from my pondering to the honking of a forty something lady with dyed hair who’s yelling out the window of her Volvo station wagon to an equally annoyed and overly stressed woman in a white Mercedes. The honking and muted yells continue till the Swedish rectangle wins the heroic battle and moves forward two extra feet in front of her German engineered nemesis. And watching it all, as I just did, sits a man in a jeep wrangler staring at me with envy. I point to the bus and smile, pressing my ass a little bit deeper into the soft federal soil, for I’d rather wait an extra couple minutes than sit in that mess any day of the week.

*Just after posting this I happened upon a like-minded post by fellow Metro rider, LA Metro Mole (June 10, 2006 “so you won’t have to stand in the hot sun…” post). He offers more helpful advice though and I suggest you all check it out, both rider and administrator alike. Thanks LA Metro Mole.

I ride the red line to Koreatown every morning, changing at Wilshire/Vermont for the final leg. Any of the thousands of people who do this daily know that it involves a madcap dash down a long flight of stairs, all too often to find your train pulling away just as you reach the bottom.

Well the other day, I was only a 1/4 of the way down and saw the train there. I knew i wouldn’t make it. It was clearly impossible. But thats when I saw the hero of the day, a crazy bearded smiling dirty dude standing in front of the doors, wildly waving us in.

I felt such joy as I ran down those steps. But as I got closer, I began to question his motives. Was this hirsute man helping us out of a sense of altruism? Or did he have an ulterior motive? DID HE WANT MY POCKET CHANGE?!!?!

I made sure to get onto the train a few cars away from him.