It feels good to be back, doesn't it folks? I know there's been a delay since the last post, but you'll get over it. Trust me. I promised no filler when I started this, and I intend to keep that promise. Now dry your eyes and let's get going.
Yesterday I began a new phase in my life: I took the bus to work for the very first time. In fact, it was the first time I have ridden a bus, outside of a school field trip, ever. Needless to say, it made me think.
Now those of you who don't live in Dallas may have already stopped reading, but here in the Big D, this is kind of a big deal. I lived in Chicago for a while and I've visited the Big Apple a time or two, so I'm familiar with decent and efficient public transportation. Let's define this for you non-Dallas-residents. Decent and efficient, in regards to public transportation, means the kind that takes you from a place you may want to live to a place you may want to go in a somewhat timely manner, and also at times that may be convenient to the average Joe's routine. To provide some context, it must be noted that DART (Dallas' mass transit market monopoly holder) does none of the above.
To provide further context let me relate to you a short story. My office recently moved. We are directly up the street from Addison, a suburb of Dallas that literally has more bars and restaurants than residents. I noted while gazing from my 13th story office window that a favorite eatery of mine was in plain sight, and mentioned that we should amble there one fine spring day. The reaction was incredulous. 'Too far to walk' was the general consensus. So I leaned on our dear friends (unless you're a Chinese dissident) at Google and mapped out the trip. Three tenths of a mile. I expected the case to be closed, and a date to be set. But alas, this was still too far. It may take a whole 10 minutes. Someone really said that. Note that I do not work with the elderly or infirmed. These were all late-twenties/early thirties males. I mentioned that in no other city in the world would people consider driving such a trivially short distance. My arguments went unheard. In Dallas, we do a lot of things, but walking isn't one of them. In fact, outdoor recreation of any kind is banned without a significant investment in toys with which to do it, but that's for another day. In Dallas, we drive. Everywhere.
DART operates a train system that is sleek, new, clean, and runs straight north and south. My commute so happens to be west to east, so I take the filthy bus. It should be noted at this point that the author takes no artistic license in using the word 'filthy'. There were Funions in my seat. Funions the snack product. The one that mimics the flavor of onion rings fried in garlic oil after marinating in stoner day dreams.
But clean and dirty are not what this is about. This is about a thought on thoughts, so let us commence.
Every day on the way into my office building I see pretty much the same people. I often spend awkward quality time enjoying the wafts of their hangovers and farts in the elevator. And we acknowledge each other, often going so far as to communicate verbally. There is a familiarity hosted by routine and the easy common ground of geography and all of its wonderful accoutrement's like sports teams and weather. So one would assume that the same might be true of the bus. These people, at least a significant majority of them, must travel this same route daily at the same time. If they did not then the very spirit, as well as the economic lifeblood of mass transit would be defeated. But there are no glances. Not a single hint of recognition. If verbal communication is simply too much, then a passing glance, a nod, any kind of acknowledgement. Nothing. If they do know each other on some level, even the most basic level of circumstantial similarity, there is no sign of it. The only conclusion I can draw is that somehow they must lack any form of commonality. Even though the means of transit is the same, the reasons behind it are far too varied. From the teenager digging change out of his pockets hoping it will cover the fare to his girlfriend's place, to the woman riding the bus from the same starting place as me to the same building as me, everyone on a DART bus is there for a reason that is wholly unique to them. After all, in a city that drives, why are you on the bus?
Then it occurs to me that I have several reasons. It's emotional: I suffer from severe road rage, and the commute to work starts and ends my day on the wrong foot. It's logical: I am a crappy driver, and not driving is a win/win for me and society. It's political: I believe firmly in the spirit of mass transit, and that it is and can be functional for most. It's economical: I'm cheap, preferring to use the money most would put towards a car payment for other things that I find far more valuable, like not using credit cards. It's environmental: I'm reducing my impact on this planet significantly.
But even those reasons have commonalities - they are reasons that justify a choice. And some days I may not make the choice to ride the bus. I may drive, or bum a ride from my hetero life partner (aka: the wife). And maybe that's why I can't see the recognitions. Maybe I'm the outsider here. Maybe the lack of recognition is a retainer of anonymity. Maybe it provides a firmer illusion of security. Maybe it's some social fear, with or without good reason. Maybe it's just too early in the morning. Maybe maybe maybe and blah blah blah. I think that 'outsider' comment was closest to the truth...
As the bus makes its exit from my day, stage right, after depositing a handful of us off on the corner, I observe the final collapse of commonality as I turn and walk towards the side of the street where the suburbs begin and the city ends, and notice I am suddenly traveling alone.
Take the bus to work tomorrow, it will give you plenty of time to think.
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