i believe believe in the glory of government-controlled people conveyance

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been a fan of public transportation. But in the great white north, I only used the excruciatingly slow, over-priced busses when my car was in the shop. Yes it was only 8 miles door-to-door, and the University Line ran 24/7, and it ran so frequently, I would never drive on University save to stop behind a bus at every intersection. But I really enjoyed my little car; only smelling my own BO (not that I have any, of course) and singing OUT LOUD to my music of preference. The trip was shorter, but included the asinine driving skills of Them That Shall Not Be Fingered (for the time being) so the stress to time ratio was the only factor. In the great white north, the stress was worth the time.

And now I find myself in the great city of wind. A flat place. Full of wonders like a giant ferris wheel, corrupt politicians, new restaurants every weekend and yes, mass transit. It was my intention to finally take advantage of a city that has a broad spectrum of affordable public transportation.

Every day I wanted to wake up, get ready for work, walk 3 blocks to the station, take the Brown Line to the Red Line and end up downtown. Every day I wanted to squeeze into a train car at 5pm and hold on to the railing for 25 minutes all the while smiling proudly at my compatriots in transit. In fact, I watch my roommate do this every day. from my position (more on that later), her red cheeks are aglow from the satisfaction of saving the environment and her pocket change. Even if she says differently, which she probably will, I will continue to believe in the glory of government-controlled people conveyance.

Why am I oh… a bit delusional? It’s because shortly after gaining employment, I learned that there was no method of public transportation for me. nosirree. I had to drive to work like the schmucks I thought I was breaking free from.

So every day I spend 40 minutes to an hour in my car, one way, easing my jealousy with the little things in life. Like, morning talk radio (see earlier entry about my crazy love for public radio) or a cup of tea with cream and sugar. Perhaps I’ll treat myself to dunkin’ donuts in the am, or trader joe’s in the pm.

But every day, I come home from work, work out, settle in for supper, and watch my roommate enter the apartment, cheeks aglow. Bitterly, I choke back the jealous bile, shoot my car keys a piercing Look and turn to my dear, environmentally sound roommate and say, “how was your day?”