I only wish I could keep you up to date on all the happenings of the world. This, of course, includes being pulled over for having my taillights not working, moving into a new place with only an air mattress and two things in the fridge, or finding out today that Citicard thought I was past due even when I kept checking online and showing a $0.00 balance. I obviously wasn’t thinking too hard about it… anyway, that’s not the point, the point is, I’m going to tell you a different story than all that. It’s called, I took the bus in Minneapolis - for the first time. (”…Feels like the very first time!”)
I woke up this morning around 5:45. I walked into my bathroom in my new apartment… do I call it an apartment when I’m renting somebody else’s condo? Anyway, I turned on the shower and waited for about three minutes while the water became hot enough to enjoy. My fiancee is never going to marry me now. I got showered and ready to go out the door at 6:20 - because I was trying to catch a 6:30 bus… somewhere.
We’ll pause here and admit that there is a labeled bus stop about two hundred yards from my apartment, maybe less than that. I would literally cross one street and be there. But, it wasn’t labeled in a way that made sense on my printed directions from Metrotransit.org. We’ll get to my printed directions, though.
I had a vague guess about where I was trying to go. So I walked about three blocks down, through some very grassy overgrown street-sides and around a corner past a large industrial warehouse… right up to a parked transit bus. Of course, the bus driver is over 50, overweight, and easily confused. To condense, after a phone call to the transit helpline and after we found out that my bus driver, let me re-emphasize, my bus driver did not know what I meant when I said “394″, the interstate spur about two miles north of where I was….. but I was condensing, I know. I was on the right bus, sort of. For two out of three of my possible trip itineraries. Yes, I had all three printed, in my Trader Joe’s bag which was rattling with spare change. Only one other person got on the bus. His name was Jeremy.
Jeremy turned out to be very helpful, pretty much right away. I told him where I was going, and he knew what I wanted to do better than I did. What was funny, however, was our ride in this bus; we drove right back to the stop I walked past just a few minutes earlier. And, we got off the bus there, Jeremy and I, that is.
We boarded another bus, because Jeremy explained that the bus I was on would take about 50 minutes to reach downtown, whereas the express bus we were boarding in a minute would take only 25 minutes. I thought that was good.
I chatted with Jeremy as we rode the express bus, pointing to my building as we drove past it. ”If I could get out right now, I could walk over there in five minutes.” That’s not verbatim, just something similar to what I said, mind you.
I got antsy when we drove into downtown. I saw on one of my itineraries that I needed to get on another express out of downtown on Hennepin Avenue. I heard the driver say Hennepin. I ran off the bus. I looked around. I saw a street sign. 12th St. I looked at my two itineraries that I was trying to follow simultaneously. They said… Hennepin and 4th St. I was not in good walking shoes. But I started walking.
Actually, it made me feel like I was back in Portland. Walking past a bunch of nudie bars, that is. And riding public transportation. And it was cloudy and cool.
I found my intersection. Buses coming and going in every direction. I had to guess which side of the street I was supposed to be on. I guess close. I saw my express bus across the street, a little earlier than I had anticipated. I ran across the street just in time to jump on.
And I rode. And the bus dropped me off literally at the front door of my building. At what time? Oh, forty-five minutes before I was supposed to start work. So I walked over to Caribou and had a blueberry muffin and coldpress with cream and vanilla. Again, more walking than I should’ve done in those shoes.
But, I was to work, for only three dollars and an hour and a half of my life. I’m not sure I’m ready for Minneapolis transit on a regular basis. I need to pack my things and get on the road again. I hope I can get back here to tell you more stories from my new life. We’ll see (said the blind man).