Commuter Like Me

I guess you can't call yourself a commuter until you've made the trip before 8am. My usual rides, leisurely strolls by comparison, depart at such healthy happy times as 12:30 or 1pm. Those buses are rarely even half full, so everyone gets a double seat. And those rides, coming in as they do during non-rush-hours, are a brisk 90 minutes.

I'm attending a conference this morning in Manhattan. I considered sleeping over at my mom's, since we were there just a few hours ago, but Shirra is not comfortable driving at night, so I obliged, and I was especially relieved to discover that the 7:40am bus still got me to the conf on time, rather than the even less humane 7:10.

Running a few minutes late, I was forced to drive to the 2nd stop in New Paltz, the park 'n' ride. New Paltz doesn't really need its other stop (they aren't more than two miles apart), but it's nice to get on or off right in town, so no one's complaining. If I'd made the earlier stop, however, I would not have had to take the last seat in the bus, way in the back, wedged into the spot beside a dozing heavyweight in a puffy jacket. Serves me right for taking such a luxurious shower. And maybe I shouldn't have taken so long scraping tice off the windshield, but I do like to have some vague idea of where I'm driving.

The good news is that I at least got a seat. Since I had my unicycle with me today, I ended up last to board the bus (since I had to put the unicycle underneath). One more passenger and I'd have had to drive in
instead.

The 7:40 crowd is quiet. They are so quiet, in fact, that when a woman near me sneezed, no one blessed her. And no one is eating breakfast or playing their iPod too loudly. But if I had to leave each day without saying goodbye to my sleeping wife and kids before heading out earlier than I normally wake up to take a bus full of wide seatmates and godforsaken sneezers, I'd be a very sad boy.