Reply hazy. Try again.

Every so often I see this guy in the morning. He looks like he's maybe 40-ish. He's pretty big, not in the chubby sense, but he's tall and has a big frame. He occasionally picks up my second bus in the mornings. He uses a cane, well, in theory he uses a cane. I've only seen him carry it because he has a bike with him. The bike is a BMX bike, like the one my 10th grade boyfriend had. Most of this is borderline odd....I think you'd have to see a picture. What tips this into the "weirdo" category is his choice of helmet. Now, most people choose to wear, say, a bike helmet. Not this guy. The last time I saw him he was wearing a hockey helmet. A full on hockey goalie helmet with the wire face mask. This morning, he chose a different helmet. A batting helmet. Fer reals, people. Could I make this up? A batting helmet, covering one ear. I'm waiting for him to bust out with the football helmet one of these days.

There was a terribly attractive Indian guy at my bus stop this morning. He was a little confused as to where he should go and when he should get there, so I was more than happy to oblige. We chatted a bit. He was very nice. As (someone else's-not mine) luck would have it, he was waiting for the bus this afternoon too. He thanked me again for helping him. We chatted some more. He was seriously cute. No moustache too! My Magic 8 Ball very quickly told me that I will see him again, however it's being quite vague on exactly how many children we'll have. I can't believe my Magic 8 Ball would leave me hanging.

Oh, I almost forgot. I saw Ma this afternoon also. She gave me a big giant hello and a fistful of Thai melon candy. I ate one to be polite...you see, I hate melon. This was really good! She complimented the baby sweater I'm knitting for my cousin Stacey with a big thumbs up. I swear she is just as cute as a button. She also told me she's from Thailand when I asked her abut the candy. Interesting. The plot thickens.

Ha ha, joke's on you. And by you, I mean me.

I hate the first day of April. I hate it more than Friday the Thirteenth, which historically speaking, is always a good day for me. April Fool's Day just sucks. First of all, I hate practical jokes with all my heart. I am certain this comes from being the freak in school that was always picked on and/or made to look/feel like a loser. I hate practical jokes. They serve only to embarrass or humiliate the butt of said joke. Practical jokes are mean.

My day starts with the bus I wanted not showing up. The next bus was late, as usual. Once it pulled into the platform, and before anyone could get off the bus, the dispatcher began releasing all of the waiting buses. I had to run to catch my bus. Did I mention I had torn cartilage in my knee? I get to work and immediately start icing it down. Then my physical therapist (for the knee) calls wanting to know why I'm not there. I tell her because my appointment is tomorrow. She advises me that no, indeed it is this morning. Luckily she can fit me in tomorrow, when I thought I was supposed to be there. Then The Perfume Ladies (a/k/a our field HR folks) showed up. They all wear way too much perfume and invariably give me a headache. They gave me a headache. The day spiraled rapidly downward from there and did not resurface until I picked up some Chinese food after work. Later, Elvis entertained me by getting a Kleenex box stuck on his head. I appreciated his kind gesture.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to Humble Pie to wish a friend bon voyage on his latest month long trip to China.


And now for something completely different...
By the way, the Jimmy Dean commercials make me infinitely happy. My readers outside the US (or the South for that matter) may not be familiar with them. Poke around on the web for them. The star of the ad campaign is a guy dressed up like the Sun. He works in an office with a giant window and his coworkers are the Moon, Fog, Cloud, Rainbow, etc. Here's another one. Seriously, they crack me up. (What? Stop looking at me like that!)

*****Just to add insult to injury, I found out I had two very flat bike tires as I was heading to meet my friends this evening. Very very flat tires. *sigh* I give up.

This is why you should always wear a helmet.

Gary Busey rode my bus today. He needed to get from RTP to Rex Hospital. The driver suggested he could walk from the District Drive Park and Ride...okaaaaay. It's POURING out, with tornado warnings, oh and there are no sidewalks on a very congested road. She also suggested he ride to Moore Square and catch the Number 4. I agreed. He asked me at one point how far Rex was from the Park and Ride. I guessed about a mile or so, but suggested that today wasn't the best day to try that out. He then started to talk to the bus driver. He commended Robin on how well she handled the brakes and how well she could steer. I think she was touched he noticed. He went on to explain that he had been riding the Triangle Transit buses for A WHOLE WEEK so he really knows what he's talking about. An expert indeed. He announced that he was very unhappy with most of Robin's colleagues and that they really don't know how to drive. When my stop arrived, he thanked me for keeping him alive and dry.

Hillsborough Street Renaissance Festival

The Hillsborough Street Renaissance Festival is scheduled for Saturday, March 14 from Noon to 10 PM. The street will be closed from Gardner St to Logan Court. Since they will need to set up, expect that portion of Hillsborough Street to be closed all day.

No, it doesn't involve jousting or men wearing tights. It's a celebration to kick off the changes planned for Hillsborough Street over the next year and a half. If you live in Raleigh, do take the time to click on that link and especially watch the video of the changes planned. It's going to be cool, but man that's going to be a mess until it's finished! (Click on downloads->additional files->traffic simulation flyover video Aug 2007)

There will be music, food and fun as we would expect from any self-respecting street festival. There will be an eco-friendly fashion show, an alternative fuel vehicle showcase, and a Kid Zone. They are claiming to have a fraternity, sorority and business BBQ cook off. I am still awaiting confirmation to see if they are going to barbecue actual fraternity boys. I'll keep you updated on that one.

The event is free, but tickets appear to be required for certain parts, like the sorority girl barbecue and the fashion show. Keep in mind also that this is the same day as the Raleigh St Patty's Day Parade. The parade begins at Noon also then ends with a party in Moore Square Park where the townsfolk gets their Irish on with the homeless people.

Basically, what we're looking at here , from a public transit standpoint, is a big ol' mess downtown on Saturday. If you have to take the bus anywhere on Saturday, and I suggest you do NOT, go first to the City's transit website to check the Announcements and Detours, which includes street closures and bus detours. A better solution would be to just join the party, any party, that you might stumble across on Saturday.

The weather on Saturday looks crappy at best. So, bundle up and carry an umbrella.

Please don't make me come up with a title for this post.

Today was the kind of day that makes me never want to leave the house again. I can just hear you now.

"Oh, no, Meg. What happened?"

Well, since you asked...wait, go get a drink,a glass of red wine perhaps, and sit in a comfy chair. Ready? Right. Oh, and this first part is a wee graphic. Deal with it. Most of you are moms anyway.

I woke up around 3:15 this morning to the smell of cat poo. Someone had to use the litter box. It occurred to me that maybe it was a little too...stinky. Being the good kitty mommy I am, I got up, turned on a light, lifted up his tail. He was a mess. Did I mention he was sitting my my dresser? I picked him up and went into the bathroom only to realize, he missed the litter box. First things first, I gave him a bath. This kitty HATES water. And by hates, I mean he clawed the hell out of my arms. Right now, I look totally Emo. While I was giving him his bath at 3:30 AM, he was squirming, clawing, meowing, squawking, and generally protesting. As soon as the bath was over, I wrapped the soaking wet kitty in a towel like a burrito. Instantly, kitty burrito became calm and began purring. It was amazing. He didn't want to get out of the towel. Crazy. The snuggling was short-lived as I needed to clean up and Swiffer my bathroom floor, hallway, bedroom floor and dresser. Did I mention it was now 3:45 AM? Yup. When I was done, I got back into bed, when wet kitty decided he needed to snuggle more. This was nice, however not conducive to sleep.

I called in sick this morning, planning on sleeping since, to add insult to injury, I have a cold. Due to something beeping at the church next door, I only got about an hour sleep. Turns out they are doing work on the stone, sandblasting or something. I decided to get up and go run an errand in Hillsborough. I thought I'd take the bus.

Famous last words.

I caught the bus at 9:40-ish at my usual bus stop. When we got to the stop across from NCSU, there was a woman standing on the curb. She was waving as frantically as someone on a deserted island waiting to be rescued. Never mind the bus is supposed to stop there no matter what. She begins to motion to the woman sitting on the bench minding her own business as though without her help the bus won't stop. The woman on the bench just sits there. She is a regular rider and knows the bus will stop. This frantic woman, lets call her

::quick aside:: while Googling cast away looking for famous people on deserted islands and I ran into this. Before you click, I shall warn you, it's, uh, shall we say...racy? Click here if you dare.

Okay, so this Crazy Lady acts like she's climbing the north face of Everest as she's climbing the bus steps. She has with her a GIANT plastic mug with a Hardee's Racing logo on it and a big straw poking out, that I'd wager should not have been that brown. She also has a tote bag with her, and from the way she carried it, smart money would say she was carrying an anvil. She immediately sits down without putting money into the fare box. She asks the woman behind her if she can hold the gross Hardee's mug. She digs through the anvil bag and pulls out a few ones. She waits for a red light to stand up and put her money in the box. We have a green light and the old man driving the bus proceeds very slowly. I mean, like 2 MPH. Crazy Lady acts like she's going ass over tea kettle down the steps. She can't get the last dollar bill in and begins coaxing it. "C'mon, baby. Baby, you can do it." And so on. She's got this loud voice and she's a little manic. She sits down and begins talking to the bus driver in her "Outdoor Voice," you folks with kids know what I mean. She starts bitching about the out of service TTA bus that went by about 10 minutes before. She's acting like it was the last bus on Earth and repeats herself five or six times. She's very concerned about this bus not stopping for her and is convinced that the old man bus driver both cares and will personally be responsible for correcting the error. She then digs into the anvil bag again and pulls out her cell phone. Again using her Outdoor Voice, she makes a call begging someone at UNC Hospital to wait for her. She then goes into this long, manic rant about having to walk down Brooks Ave and a bus that refused to stop for her, etc. etc. etc. Again, she repeats herself five or six times. I'm sensing a little OCD. Who's with me? Meanwhile, the super-polite woman behind her is still holding the gross Hardee's mug. Just as I'm about to say something to her about Nice Lady still holding her drink, she turns around and tells her she is almost done.

We get to the outlet mall by the airport, when Crazy Lady tells the bus driver to stop. She's again frantic as she tells him there is a guy on the other side of the street waiting for the bus. What does the bus driver do? He stops. For someone on the other side of the street. This is one driver I thankfully don't see very often. He drives really slow, so we're already about 10 minutes behind at this point. Anyway, the driver stops and opens the door and waits like he's got no place to be. Crazy Lady stands up and indicates she's going to go tell this guy that he needs to hurry up. Luckily this guy comes along and the driver asks him where he's going. The wayward passenger says he's going to Page Road. A conversation ensues about where to stand and which bus to take and so on, but we're still not moving. Finally we're start moving and now Crazy Lady is all worried about us being late. Really, she's worried about this now? The driver claims he asked dispatch to wait. Crazy Lady goes into this Clockwork Orangian loop of "I pray they hold the bus." By some act of I don't know which deity, they held a few of the buses.

I get on the Chapel Hill bus. The driver is the guy who drives my second morning bus. I really like him. I tell him I'm not sure where to catch the 420 bus. As he's telling me, Crazy Lady walks up behind me. Lucky me, she's going to Chapel Hill too. I interrupt him to say, "this lady is fucking nuts. Good luck!" To which he laughs. He tells me where to go and I go sit way in the back of the bus, far away from her. She sets her stuff on the seat and tells the driver she has to use the loo. She holds us up for another five minutes because she has to whatever in the port o'potty. He was a little pissed. I had my head phones on so I couldn't hear him, but she repeated several times that she was sorry but she had to go and she couldn't help it and it wasn't her fault.

Finally, we're on our way. I get to Franklin Street in Chapel Hill and find the stop for the 420 Hillsborough bus. Three of us get on this little orange shuttle bus and a black guy walks up to the bus door and asks the driver, a black woman, where this bus goes. She tells him Hillsborough. He wants to know how much to ride this bus. She tells him $2. He's wants to know if that's a round trip. He can't believe a round trip is $4. She tells him he can get a $4 day pass online. He says okay and starts to step back. He steps up again before she can close the doors. He asks her, "What's Hillsborough like?" Since she's surprised by his question she mistakenly asks, "what?" He goes off..."I mean, you know, what's Hillsborough like?" "It's okay," she replies. "What's there to do in Hillsborough," he wants to know. She tries to tell him she has to go. Now he wants to know if there are a lot of black people in Hillsborough. Are there more black people than in Chapel Hill? Which city has the most black people? The worst part is that she's entertaining his questions. Finally, she tells him she has to go and closes the doors. We're off.

The ride to Hillsborough from Chapel Hill should only take 30 minutes. It takes almost an hour. I arrive at the stop at the court house just before noon. This being the South, I was afraid the court house would be closed for lunch. Luckily, they appear to be open. Sherrif Barney Fife is at the entrance, presumably for security, and asks me if he can help me. I tell him I'm here to pay a ticket and need to talk to someone. He tells me that he doesn't think anyone can help me. They are moving and all the records are packed up in boxes. Dear god, don't tell me they don't use computers!!!!!! He tells me to walk two blocks up the street and I'll see "Clerk of Courts" on a storefront. I swear they only thing this guy needed to complete the image was a good coon dog asleep at his feel.

I walk two blocks north to what turns out to be "the other side of town." I found the Clerk of Courts office. Surprisingly, it was empty except for a few people behind the counter. I give them my name, they look me up and tell me how much I owe. I walk across the street to the Bank of America ATM (gasp! technology!) walk back to the office, pay my fine, get my receipts and I'm done. Fifteen minutes tops.

Since the bus driver takes a lunch break and doesn't run until 1 o'clock, and because I haven't eaten anything by this point, I go get some lunch. I decided on a little place called Tupelo's, since everything else but the Bandido's was closed. I had an awesome sandwich which I swear was the highlight of the day. It was a BLT on pumpernickel, except that the "T" was actually fried green tomatoes. Okay, living in the South does have certain advantages. Once I was finished, I had to go to the patisserie. On King Street, there is a real French patisserie, run by a real French dude. Two shops down is a Cup A Joe coffee shop. In between? A bait and tackle shop. I kid you not. I got my blueberry turnover and Earl Grey tea, opted to forego the nightcrawlers on this trip, and walked to the police station to catch the bus.

The ride back was significantly less interesting, but took just as long since there was a lot of traffic. The Chapel Hill buses go across the UNC campus, which takes forever since there are students galore milling about. While I was waiting in Chapel Hill for the bus I popped in Light Years and bought myself a new scarf and walked across the street to Sugarland for a red velvet cupcake. Like I said, living in the South isn't all bad.

I didn't get home until 4. By that time, I was tired, cranky, and just wanted to be home. By the time I got home, I was fairly certain that, if I had to speak to another person, either flames would shoot out my mouth, or pea soup as my head spun around. Essentially, it took me four and a half hours to run a fifteen minute errand. There's not enough red velvet cake in the world to make that better.

Traffic report

I've been meaning to take pictures of the traffic around here to give you an idea of why I take the bus. Today, I was sitting in the front. I have stopped caring that other people on the bus think I'm nuts. "Bollocks to them," I say!

I have a friend who lives just north of Williamsburg, in the country. He occasionally comes to Rocky Mount to work. Last time we talked, he told me the only decent radio station he gets comes from Raleigh. He marvels that the evening traffic and accident report takes 15 minutes. I'm surprised it's that short.

Again, I can only do so much with the 2 megapixel camera, but thats all white headlights on the left and all red lights on the right. Bumper to bumper in both directions. With the exception of Mexico DF, can any other city claim rush hour traffic as bad?

Rear Window, or Mutual of Omaha Presents: Bigman Photo Safari!

As I've reported previously, Bigman will do things like violently rock back and forth in his seat, use his finger to add up invisible numbers on an invisible chalkboard, and conduct the symphony of voices in his head. A couple weeks ago, I was brazen enough to photograph this for you. "Why," you ask? "Why not," says I! That, and I love you. Consider this your belated Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa gift from me, lovies.

Here he is rocking back and forth. He was moving so quickly, it was hard to photograph.


Here he is conducting to his Walkman.


Bigman balances his checkbook?

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

This morning, a woman was sitting in front of Amy Number One. Because she was talking to another lady across from her, she was sitting sideways. She was holding a white plastic grocery bag and a candy cane. Amy stuck up a rather shameless, yet hilarious conversation with her.

Amy: What do you have in the bag?

Miss Nona: Presents for people

Amy: Do you have any more candy canes?

Miss Nona: Yes.

Amy: Can I have a candy cane?

Miss Nona: Yes, you can. hands Amy candy cane

Amy: Can you get it started for me?

Miss Nona: laughing Yes. peels plastic off candy cane and hands it back to her
Amy: What's your name?

Miss Nona: Miss Nona

Amy: Miss Nona. Thank you. breaks candy and puts half of it in her mouth

Amy: Do you have any more presents in there?

Miss Nona: Yes, but they really are for other people.

Amy: disappointed Oh.

Rainy day blues

It's pouring outside. There's a four car pile up on I-40 that has traffic so backed up it holding people up on the roads surrounding I-40. I have a cookie swap to get to in an hour and ten minutes. I'm listening to some Miles Davis to keep me calm. And now the bus just made a horrific metallic rattling noise. Twice. I am never getting to my cookie swap. I baked 10 dozen cookies in vain.

I heard some interesting scuttlebutt from the guy behind me. A DATA bus hit a car and killed two people this afternoon. I'll look for more on that later.

On my first bus tonight, Sam was driving a craptacular beat-down bus with no radio, no fare box and lights that gave a show mimicing the finest Parisian disco, which I am pretty sure means it didn't have an alternator either. Sam was driving the "parts bus" because his boss was mad at him for complaining to HR about something. Sam has a bum knee and has had surgery on it. He has a handicap tag for his car that he only uses when his knee hurts. His boss told him he couldn't park in the handicapped spaces, even though he has a tag. He went to HR about that. Good for him. He also went to his HR lady to talk about going on FMLA because his wife needs treatment for her arthritis once a month and can't do it alone. The HR lady told him he shouldn't go on FMLA for it because that's wasting it, which is bad. Just bad. She should not have an opinion whatsoever. I talked to him about it a little tonight, but I'll need to print up some information for him to educate him on what it is and what his rights are. Unless he really really misunderstood what she was saying, which I sincerely hope it the case, it sounds like this lady is on crack.

Truth is stranger than fiction.

There's a girl I see on the bus from time to time. She lives a few blocks away, and I'm afraid to say I think she works at Cisco. She's a complete dipstick. For the first week or two she took the bus, she'd wait on the wrong side of the street. (I couldn't make this up.) She tries to dress funky, like she shops at thrift stores, but her style is almost lack of style. I don't think she wears what she does ironically, if that makes any sense. She always has her headphones on and if she is waiting for the bus, she dances. To be honest, Dancing Queen is quite beautiful, especially if she'd put some effort into her hair. She looks like she's of some mixed ethnicity, so she's got this great natural spiral curl to her hair which I covet, but it usually looks like she could stand a comb and a little product. She also rolls her own cigarettes. I watched her do it the other morning and it was all I could do to not laugh. She really kind of sucked at it.

She was on the bus tonight sitting in front of me. A friend of hers got on the bus at the airport mall and sat behind her. He looked like your Standard Issue Hippie Stoner, even down to the stink of patchouli. She, of course, was wearing her signature scent...trying too hard. I was the jerk yammering away on her cell phone about cookies for most of their conversation. When I hung up, I was more than happy to listen to them talking. About books. Literature in fact. They somehow got on the topic of classic literature. Dancing Queen said she liked Dostoyevsky, which got my attention. She stated she "loved" Notes From Underground the way I proclaimed my love of horses on fifth grade. Really? While I agree that it's inspired, brilliant even, if you've ever actually read it, I mean really read it, I think you'll find that the first existential novel infuriating, maybe a little difficult. She said she loved how metaphorical he was. Dostoyevsky was many things, but metaphorical he was not. Philosophical, perhaps, but not really metaphorical. But I digress. She then goes on to say that she loved his other "book" called The Metamorphosis. She then realizes that he didn't actually write that. It went something like this:

DQ: Wait, did he write that?

Hippie Stoner: Yeah, I don't remember. I don't think so.

Me, silently: You mean Kafka?

DQ: Um, it wasn't Tolstoy.

HS: blank stare

Me: Wrong country. Wrong century.

DQ: Oh, I don't remember who wrote that.

Me: KAFKA! It was Kafka. Dostoyevsky died before Kafka was born! KAF. KA.

HS: Oh, it was Kafka, I think.

DQ: Oh right. Yeah, man, I, like, love how metaphorical it is. How it's a metaphor for...something stupid I didn't catch. Something like a metaphor for his life? It doesn't matter anyway.

HS and Me, still silently, in unison: It's not metaphorical at all. He really does turn into a roach.

DQ: really confused, tilted head Really? dramatic pause I love fiction.

HS: I love fiction too.

Me, still quiet as a mouse: Me too!

I think I'm thawing out.

I left my office at 5 o'clock as usual. My bus did not arrive at 5:04 like its supposed to. Instead, it arrived at 5:40. After three calls to the customer service and dispatch folks. Seems my bus driver got lost. When it's your job to drive a bus....how in blazes do you get lost? Especially when your route takes you out of the Transfer Center and all you do to get back is turn right repeatedly. Oh, and behind your seat is a rack of schedules with little maps on them. Oh, and you have a radio to communicate with the dispatchers who can tell you where to go. Oh, and you have a clipboard with the route on it with directions and the times. How. Do. You. Get. LOST!!!!!!!!!!! Did I mention it was 40 degrees out? (I know you Wisconsin and Sweden peoples will mock my 40 degrees, but that's cold for here!)

On my second bus, there was a new hottie. I think I might have seen him before. Tall, rugged Indian dude with a bicycle. Yum! Which got me thinking about the time I did eHarmony...shut up...and for about two solid months, they were only setting me up with Indian guys with giant moustaches. Apparently, I would make a good Indian wife. I can cook Indian food quite well and have no doubt I'd be hot in a sari. It's just the moustache thing I can't get past. This guy didn't have one. Thankfully. Which made me forget all about being late.

Gotta go bake cookies! Later, y'all.

Business in the front, party in the back.

There's a guy I've seen around the TTA bus platforms in the mornings. He gets on the 105 to Raleigh which brings me to RTP. He's Asian, I think, a little short (for a dude) and stocky. He always wears jeans, a black t-shirt (man after my own heart) usually with some metal band on it, and a jacket. In the warmer months, he'll wear a denim jacket, thus completing the look I like to call "The Canadian Tuxedo." In the cooler months, he wears a black leather jacket. I've saved the best for last. His hair? He's got a mullet. Really. His hair is straight and black, short in the front, long in the back. It sticks up a bit on top. It is truly a respectable rocker mullet from 1987. There's something about this guy, whom I'll now refer to as Hulio, that's oddly appealing.

As I've said before, the TTA changed their bus routes recently and my second bus in the morning makes a few extra stops. Imagine my surprise when this morning, when we pull up to the IBM 500 building to find Hulio waiting to get on the bus. It appears he works overnight for IBM. Perhaps I shall be seeing more of Hulio in the near future. Hear me now, believe me later. If he shows up wearing a Dokken t-shirt, I'm going to propose to him. (Don't judge! What do you expect from a girl with 24 imaginary cats?)


(Perhaps my fellow Laugh-A-Lot and Get High School alumni might remember Hulio. Those who do, should know that I am using this reference, or nod if you will, with all the love in the world.)

My work here is done!

On my way home tonight, The Other Amy was on the bus. Turns out she's one of the TTA planners, which explains why I haven't seen her recently. If you all remember, Amy Number One loves her. I told TO Amy what happened yesterday morning. She was upset about it too. She understands, and from what she said tonight, knows more about Amy #1's condition. Apparently, she's autistic, which explains a lot. TO Amy said her mother came with her on Monday, which was the first day of the new changes. She said that even with her mom with her, Amy #1 was getting agitated.

The Other Amy is going to investigate who the driver is and talk to her with the Customer Service Trainer. It's nice that someone else has Amy #1's back too.

And now we resume your regularly scheduled programming.

I might have mentioned that the TTA was changing things around. They moved the Transfer Center and had to redo the bus routes and schedules. They also changed drivers. I'll write more about that later. My first bus is still the 105, but I catch it about 10 minutes later in the morning. I figured I might not see the same people. To be honest here, I was worried I wasn't going to see Amy Number One anymore. Aside from being good blog fodder, she's grown on me. I like Amy. I miss her when she's not on the bus. Luckily, she's there. We have a new driver whom I suspect got her bus driver training in the public school system. She shouts at people to sit down white the bus is moving. She's driving a new bus, with eight hand loops in the front so you have something to hold onto if you have to stand. I don't know what she's going to do when the bus is full.

I think I hate this woman already and it's only day two. This morning, she pulled into the transfer center and stopped short of the platform to let the dispatcher get on and direct her where to go. A bunch of people started to stand up and get ready to leave, including Amy. The dispatcher was standing in the door and wouldn't let her out. The driver is yelling that nobody is going anywhere and we all need to sit down. Amy is in the front of the bus, obviously agitated. I can imaging that she knew she was supposed to get off the bus but was confused as to why she wasn't allowed to get off. The driver raises her voice at her and says, "you need to sit down, ma'am," with all the head shaking diva attitude you'd expect to see on the Mo Po Show. Amy looked like she was going to cry, and she's saying, "where do I go? Why can't I get off?" I called to her and said "Amy, it's okay, come sit down," which she did and when she was sitting in the seat in front of me again, I told her the driver needed to pull up to the curb before we could get off. She calmed down a little. When the driver finally stopped and let us off, she said "good bye, Amy. Have a nice day" as Amy was getting off the bus.

This upset me on so many levels. I sincerely hope she does not ever talk to Amy like that again. Amy obviously has some sort of developmental delay. She can get around on the bus by herself, but she doesn't recognize that the driver needs to pull up to the curb. She just knows she where she needs to be to get on her second bus. There is no need to talk to her like a 4 year old, but there is also no need to raise your voice to her or speak harshly to her. She doesn't understand and she was obviously upset. The fact that she's treating us like a bunch of middle schoolers, is also ridiculous. If her driving is so crazy that we'll get hurt if we stand up while the bus is in motion, then perhaps she should consider a career change.

(Add number 21 to yesterday's list. I am a fiercely loyal friend and will stick up for the little guy if that little guy doesn't have a voice of their own.)

I think you all may have rightfully inferred by now that I was that weird kid in your elementary school class. Not the weird paste-eating kid, but the weird kid who had imaginary cats and wore funky clothes.

(Add number 22. I didn't have an imaginary friend. I had two imaginary cats, Chuck and JoAnn, who had twenty-two imaginary kittens. I would yell at people if they were about to sit on them. Seriously.)

I was also the only one who was friends with Jane in elementary school. Jane lived a couple blocks up the street and was in my class. I think we might have walked to school together. Jane had Downs Syndrome. The kids in our class would tell her to lift her dress up and show off her underpants, which she did happily since she didn't know any better. The kiss of death for me was when I became her sworn defender. Meh. I didn't care. They all hated me (and Chuck and JoAnn) anyway, and Jane was cool. I remember being invited to her birthday party. My mom crocheted her a clown puppet for her gift. I was the only one at the party who didn't have some sort of developmental delay. I remember the party was a lot of fun. I'd like to think that Amy is somebody's Jane and that someone out there has Jane's back now. If this woman is anything other than sugar, spice and unicorns to Amy again, I'm going to the Triangle Transit Board of Trustees.

Letter to all the bus drivers in the Triangle area.

Dear Transit Operators,

Hi! I want to thank you all for the normally stellar job you all do. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but winter is coming. It was cold today. Very cold. You were late today. All of you. Very late. I spent a total of an hour and forty minutes waiting for the buses. Tomorrow morning, the forecast is 29 degrees. I would appreciate it if you all could be on time tomorrow. I don't ever want to wait that long for a bus again.

Cheers,
Meg

Big TTA news!

Just so y'all know, on Monday morning, the Triangle Transit buses begin using the new and improved Transfer Center at 901 Slater Road in RTP. The drivers also switch routes. I have no idea who my drivers will be, so I'll keep ya posted about that. You can go here to see the new routes. Personally, I am excited about shortening my commute by 10 minutes. I'll try to remember to bring my camera for photos of the new digs.

There hasn't been much bus news lately. Sorry about that.

Sarge, in his typical "why be on time when you can be early" spirit, decided we needed to get used to the new schedule today, so I nearly missed my bus, as did Chatty Cathy and her new BFF. There's some woman who's also new on the bus. They share a bench in the morning and smoke themselves silly. Takes the pressure off me to be nice at 7 AM.

Floyd has decided to work the 3 PM to midnight shift driving the express routes, so I won't see him again for 6 months probably. This is too bad because I really like the guy.

Cherry Cough Syrup Lady has finally toned it down. A week or two ago, on a Thursday I was sitting up front chatting with Boyfriend, as usual. When we got to the park and ride, I saw her waiting for the bus, so I got up and bolted for the back of the bus. When we arrived at the Transfer Center, I walked up to the front of the bus to talk to him. He thought it was funny. He also thinks she reeks. He told me it's actually hairspray, not perfume. What's especially amusing about that is what her hair looks like. She always has a big clump sticking straight out in the back. Same spot, every day. It's awesome.

Okay, gotta go...NCIS is on. Have I told y'all I'm addicted? Seriously. I got it bad for this show.

Ho ho ho, Merry Thanksgiving!

Today I can use three words I never thought I'd use in the same sentence in reference to Raleigh, North Carolina. Especially not before Thanksgiving or in the same week even! Those three words would be "our" "second" and "snow." For reals, peeps. We got a second round of snow/flurries this morning. As always, it was beautiful. I arrived at the bus stop a bit early, which I means I got to enjoy those big, fluffy flakes for about 20 minutes. My bus was late. It was the same jerky driver who is ALWAYS late...remember him? Last time he told me that I should have left earlier. blood pressure rising, moving on! Because he was late again, I missed my second bus. I had to stand outside waiting for the next bus for about 30 minutes. Quick math tells me that was almost an hour. Did I mention it was around 35 degrees this morning? Yeah. I was mighty cold once I finally arrived at the office. This time of the year, I am very thankful to have steam heat in this apartment. It's so toasty warm in here and it's free. Never again will I rent an apartment without radiators.

Tomorrow morning is the 64th Annual Raleigh Christmas Parade. You remember, the one that nearly kept me from being able to move in last year. Yeah, that parade. Since I'm on the first floor, I'll have box seats for the parade which starts right outside my building. I'm having a few friends over to watch the parade. It should be a lot of fun. I'll report back with pictures soon! This area looks weird since there's no parking anywhere near here right now. It's like a ghost town!

I am a Dork. With a capital D.

There is a guy who lives somewhere in my neighborhood. I see him around sometimes, and he rides the bus. I see him in the evenings usually. Over the past couple months, we have started chatting. I'm not going to lie. He's H-O-T hot. Smart, funny, nice, hot. Oh, and I'm 60-73% sure he's gay. Given my long and sordid history of falling madly in love with gay men...Well, never mind. I'll save that for a good therapist.

Anyway...I haven't seen him in the past couple weeks because of my work schedule. He got on the bus tonight and was about to sit a couple seats in front of me when he saw me, looked happy to see me and proceeded to sit down behind me. He starts talking to me and what happens? I feel like I'm going to vomit and can't think of ANYTHING to say.

I need to have an exorcism of my inner 7th grader. Quick.

New routes and schedules are posted!

Go here to see the changes Triangle Transit has made to their routes and schedules effective December 1.

I am happy to report this will not affect my commute negatively, and it looks like I might get a few extra minutes in the morning. Woo hoo! I am as equally happy to report that a new Blue Urban Bikes hub will be stationed at the new Transfer Center.

Two thumbs up to the staff of the Triangle Transit Group for doing a bang up job. I have no doubt this will be a seemless transition. Their planning group had to recalculate all of the time tables, create new routes, move existing routes and somehow keep everyone happy. What a daunting task.

It takes a village.

The first bus I take home in the evening is the 48, which uses LabCorp as its second time point. I was sitting in the back of the bus and I noticed an unusually large crowd in the front. The LabCorp building is next to an office building, and next to each is woods for a good half mile in either direction. This means that we expect people to get off at that stop in the morning and on at that stop in the evening, which is 99% of the time what happens. This stop happens to be shared with the Number 15 DATA bus, which is hardly ever used since the DATA buses are terrifying and run every hour and a half in rush hour traffic. Now that we have that straight, here's what happened Friday afternoon. Keep in mind I'm a little fuzzy on the specifics because I was the asshole in the back of the bus yakking away on the cell phone. (I hate those people!)

Floyd pulls up to LabCorp stop. One young girl gets off, three people get on. Floyd starts to drive, but wonders aloud what Young Girl is trying to do. Floyd stops the bus and opens the doors. Cross Eyed Mary also wonders aloud what Young Girl wants to do. This propmts Lefty to perk up as well. Floyd, the halo wearing bus driver, is having trouble getting Young Girls attention, so he honks at her and motions for her to get back on the bus. Floyd asks her where she is going. I didn't hear what she said, but this prompts Floyd to do a lot of gesturing and pointing. Cross Eyed Mary suddenly has something to say, and is now standing in the front of the bus with Floyd and Young Girl. Another woman picks up a schedule opens it, and heads to the front. I look up again and three people, including Floyd, are holding schedules and pointing in different directions. Young Girl looks even more confused. I am fairly certain that at some point, Red Headed Stranger gets in on this too. This carries on for, I kid you not, ten minutes before everyone sits down and Floyd closes the doors and drives on. Miraculously, we arrived on time at the Transfer Center.

Fear not, loyal readers. If you find yourself on a bus and unsure of where to go, there will be five people armed with schedules and an opinion on your travel plans.