Short Bus

After wrestling with my stupid car that seems to be taken a cue from my other household Nemisis. I decided it's time to board the bus with buddy Al and get on with making the world a greener, more energy efficient place. As much as I am loathe to spend time in tight quarters with other people - especially first thing in the morning, it was time to give mass transit a try. I had yet to attempt a bus ride to anywhere since we moved out of Uptown.
After a particularly harrowing commute to work on Tuesday, I decided it was time to stop being stupid and start getting real - a convertible, on Minnesota roads, under foot of thousands of inconsiderate SUV drivers is a truly useless mode of transportation.
So, I carefully checked the schedule and printed out my best route last night.
Then I left the paper sitting on my desk.
I got up at the crack of dawn this morning and grabbed my laptop. I tried to sneak over to the couch in the dark. As I lowered my left foot there was a distinctively delicate, grating crunch. I had just stepped into a giant pile of glass that had as recently as last night been a Guinness glass. Gingerly I retracted my foot, "Shit!"
"Mmm, whazizz it, sweethaat?" came from the bedroom.
"I just stepped in a huge pile of glass!" The glass you left on the coffee table even though you know it's the cat's favorite game to play in the night - glass tipping. It's like cow tipping, but all the rage with the urban feline of today.
"You okay?"
I wiggled my toes, still standing in an improvised crane. "I think so." Ever so slowly I lowered my foot behind me and limped back to the light switch. There weren't any more noises from the bedroom. I don't know what I expected, but in my dull, coffee starved brain I was thinking, "Well the least you could do is come OUT here and SEE if I'm okay since it's all pretty much YOUR fault." But I didn't. Two and a half years of marriage have taught me not to share those sorts of things. No, instead you just bottle them up into a tight little package that will eventually explode into a tearful tirade somewhere inappropriate and somewhere probably around the 14th of the month.
I got out the broom and swept up the glass and glared at that cat. She slowly blinked. Devil spawn.
Finally, I was able to pull up the laptop and find what my route was supposed to be. I could either take a bus going into downtown St. Paul, transfer to another bus OR I could take a bus to the airport, board a train and take that downtown. I like the trains. They're all cute and new and zippy. They make driving down Hiawatha a nightmare, but they were shiny! Also, I've nearly been run off the road by that reckless 94 Express bus that connects the Twin Cities. No way.
So, I tossed back a reheated two day old cup of coffee, gritted my teeth and bundled up. I waddled down the snow covered street. No one had shoveled their sidewalks since the last time it snowed and my Rocket Dog tennies are not built for practicality. I made my way over to the bus bench in front of the Holiday. Okay..... bus come now! No...... I tried to stand patiently. I slid my hands into my pockets and tucked in my elbows. There were about five school buses that passed me, but no city bus.
I don't know if you noticed, but it was FREEZING. Bus come... NOOOW? Bus now! Grarrgh. I huffed, which steamed up the inside of my parking and immediately that froze into little ice crystals and if I had a bit of a mustache - and I'm not saying I do, because that would just be a lapse in keeping up with a certain beauty regime. But if I did, the metal from the top snap would have them frozen to the front of my face in a rather unappealing and painful manner. FINALLY, the bus arrived. I climbed on, dumped two dollars worth of quarters down the gullet of the beast and grabbed my transfer. There was an open seat near the front. I plunked down and started to thaw.
I couldn't believe how quickly it zipped along! In no time I was at the airport. I glanced around nervously. My strategy was to watch everyone else disembark before I did. I figured chances were good that most of these people would be headed for the train. They probably were. But I lost most of the group as I followed the one guy that was heading to the tram that goes to the main terminal. Thank God I didn't get on that thing. I realized that it didn't look quiiiiite right then looked around. There was a large, idiot proof sign pointing me to the train station. Seeing that there were stairs or an escalator, I idiotically chose the stairs. I didn't realize that they were crafted after that stairway bought by the lady we all kno-ooo-ooow (insert Bonham drum solo here.) I was getting vertigo going all the way down these suckers. Where's exactly do the trains depart from? And who is that conductor? SATAN? Am I in hell, or just feel like it? No, I couldn't be in hell because the temperature was steadily dropping.
It really was beautiful. There were the two tunnels and a big dragon fly wing etching on the floor. It's just so pretty! And urban! I didn't feel like I was even in Minnesota! The train whooshed in and hopped on board. A transit cop asked to see my ticket and I showed him and sat down. I tried to read my book and look like a normal commuter, when really I felt like a country child in the city. Geezum! Wouldja lookit that?
In no time at all I was dropped off in front of Neiman Marcus. I'd made it! I'm a commuter! I'm a commuter!