Whoo! Been busy! First week of college has gone by. . . awkwardly. Put on the tea kettle, I have stories.
I think I mentioned somewhere before this that I was going to attempt to start using public transportation when I didn't have work-- which, this week, amounted to just Tuesday and Thursday. Okay, get up at 6am, be out of the house by 7am, walk to the bus stop (a 20 minute-ish walk) and wait a few minutes for the bus to come.
Of course it's late and I'm at the stupid stop 10 minutes early. It's 7:20am and everyone in the fucking valley is commuting to work down a magical main road in Nampa that the bus stop happens to be right alongside. Hi, passing traffic. Quit looking at me like I got a DUI, I'm riding the bus because I want to.
My fat ass settles into the curb and I kick back to read some H-Piddles while I wait.
And then. . . .it comes.
Okay, okay. What am I supposed to do? Got my CWI ID in my pocket to flash at the driver, got my book securely in my bag so there will be no goofy falling and tripping all over hell. No wacky shenanigans today- I'm off to community college.
Though hyperventilating, I get on the bus just fine. I do the school thing (three classes; geology, biology and English, 10 minutes in between them. Eugh) and go to get on the bus to go home. You can imagine at this point I'm feeling preeeetty cocky. Bus? Aw yeah, I've nailed that bitch.
The 53 arrives, I get on feeling pretty good about life. The bus rolls all the way to the other side of the parking lot where. . . it stops. It changes drivers and it changes numbers. This is now the 52. . . what? Shit shit shit.
Okay, maybe it's one bus in one direction and my intended route the other.
Halfway around the other side of Caldwell an hour later, and I'm calling shenanigans on my theory. The bus changes numbers again, and I resolve to just get off when we get near Nampa. Bolting off at the post office and an angry call to Miranda later and I'm home, confused and frustrated that I spent 2 hours on that stupid ass bus.
As for now? I think I have it figured out on Thursday after, God forbid, just asking the bus driver if he was stopping on 16th. My death trap of a Ford looks like goddamned utopia compared to that uncomfortable, on the edge of massacring the bus (finally gutting myself with the katana, because after all, DISHONORRR) experience.
Fuck the whales, I'd drive my car to the living room to get the mail if it meant never talking to a bus driver again.
THE UPSIDE! The morning route is easy; most everyone on in the morning is there for CWI or a transfer stop at it. Plus the parking lot is literally filled to the brim in the mornings so. . . not such a bad idea I suppose.
I'll rant about the actual classes later, probably laced with a lot of vague references and swear words.
Until next time kiddos!
Though hyperventilating, I get on the bus just fine. I do the school thing (three classes; geology, biology and English, 10 minutes in between them. Eugh) and go to get on the bus to go home. You can imagine at this point I'm feeling preeeetty cocky. Bus? Aw yeah, I've nailed that bitch.
The 53 arrives, I get on feeling pretty good about life. The bus rolls all the way to the other side of the parking lot where. . . it stops. It changes drivers and it changes numbers. This is now the 52. . . what? Shit shit shit.
Okay, maybe it's one bus in one direction and my intended route the other.
Halfway around the other side of Caldwell an hour later, and I'm calling shenanigans on my theory. The bus changes numbers again, and I resolve to just get off when we get near Nampa. Bolting off at the post office and an angry call to Miranda later and I'm home, confused and frustrated that I spent 2 hours on that stupid ass bus.
As for now? I think I have it figured out on Thursday after, God forbid, just asking the bus driver if he was stopping on 16th. My death trap of a Ford looks like goddamned utopia compared to that uncomfortable, on the edge of massacring the bus (finally gutting myself with the katana, because after all, DISHONORRR) experience.
Fuck the whales, I'd drive my car to the living room to get the mail if it meant never talking to a bus driver again.
THE UPSIDE! The morning route is easy; most everyone on in the morning is there for CWI or a transfer stop at it. Plus the parking lot is literally filled to the brim in the mornings so. . . not such a bad idea I suppose.
I'll rant about the actual classes later, probably laced with a lot of vague references and swear words.
Until next time kiddos!
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