When this happens, I always debate chasing after it, but I know the standard bus rules well enough to know they won’t open their doors at an unofficial stop. This leaves me with two options: 1) cry, curse, and wait inside the terminal for another 15 minutes (which feels like 40) or 2) take foot and see if I can catch it. And today, I’d like to tell you about option 2.

I sprint down 2nd avenue, turn left and climb the hill past the Target Center. In my mind, it seemed feasible that I could catch the bus by 6th and Hennepin, but it’s moving more quickly than I anticipated. 4 blocks into this adventure, I’ve worked up a sweat in my wool hat and my light-colored pants are soaked with dirty street slush. But there’s no going back.

My sprint has decelerated to a bouncing jog/walk and I catch a glimpse of my bus midway down 6th street, somewhere near City Hall. I pick up the pace and for a moment consider I might actually make it. A full mile into the adventure, I arrive at the bus door and desperately pound 3-times with my mitten-covered hands and the doors pauses before flying open to receive me. The bus driver smiles (and she never smiles) because she has seen me in her rearview chasing her for the 10 minutes and I’m convinced she was secretly rooting for me.

For once, I thanked the homeless guy who wears a garbage bag and pays for his fare in nickels. It was the only thing that bought me time to catch it.

Next to that 95 World Cup thing, this may be my most shining athletic achievement ever.

Riding back from the Science Museum with my mother, a man in a wheelchair got on the bus and then once he had the chair locked in position, he got up out of his chair and walked over to the seat up front that faces the driver. He also decided to put his legs up onto the other bench seats.

After him, on the same stop, the bus fills up and most people are forced to stand. If you have ever riden a bus that travels the freeway, you know it’s really not fun to ride standing up on those routes. But still, this man did not move back to his wheel chair or take his feet down for anyone. Most people stared at the empty chair curious how it got there.

Because of this, 3 seats were taken up by the chair and 3 more by his legs on the bench. Lo and behold, 5 or 6 people were standing up! Seemed rather odd and unnecessary to me.

Why on earth do I have to endure this shit I will never know. He scared the hell out of me. If it wasn’t for another driver there, I don’t know how far this event would of gone. I was going to wait for a green light and leave him, but he was a step ahead of me. He must be used to this because he rode bike up to 6th st. I had no choice but to stop there, lot’s of people.

I called for cops and he got on and started in on me. I said don’t bother me anymore you’re on the bus. Everybody else just watched! Shit! I was on my own, I continued to drive with ice scraper in hand, upset, shaking, could not concentrate on my driving.

I sure hope that man knows he accomplished what he set out to do. By this time, I’m in tears, not calling streets, running hot, leaving before any connections, just to finish that trip. By this time I hate everybody!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why do I have to come to work every day and worry about being a victim????? There was not anything about this in the job description when I applied!

Suddenly, the bus lunges forward. I am thrown back into a rather cranky woman with a cast and a cane. Her foot, trapped in the cast is probably none too happy with the circumstances. She decides to start hitting me repeatedly with her cane – yelling at me to get off of her. The bus is still accelerating. The traffic lights opened the road as a broad set of curtains would make way for sunlight to stream through a window. Honestly, I felt as if I were riding the bus for the first time.

A moment later, the driver slowed to turn a corner and I was able to get beyond the reach of the woman’s cane. She promptly directed her attention to the driver. I inched my way back as far as I could. A young, bookish woman looked up at me and let herself silently laugh. I could not help but smile. That cane was hunting for its next victim.

Nearly a year later, I found myself out of the twin cities, and on the Grand Central shuttle to Times Square, eventually to make my way to the East Village. As long as this shuttle runs, it’s packed to the doors. As with the bus, one must take care when riding in these cars, because many of the passengers don’t always realize the importance of holding onto something when the car jerks forward and screeches around a bend. Sure enough, the shuttle moves, and moves quickly. Several passengers are thrown back a few steps – probably onto the toes of their neighbors.

I had a smirk on my face. There was something strangely satisfying about the sight of these passengers being taken completely by surprise – woken from their preoccupying trance of chatter. Luckily for them, there were no canes in sight.

First, I’ll count how many cars’ drivers are wearing their safety belts. Usually it is about 19 out of 20, so most drivers are pretty good about that. The “odd man out” not wearing his seat belt is always male, and usually late teens to early twenties, or much older- 60s or 70s.

Secondly, I’ll count Wisconsin license plates vs. Minnesota plates on I-94….the percentage grows every month, it seems. No wonder back-ups go way past Woodbury these days!

Thirdly, this one is much more distrurbing Green-wise: how many cars are single occupiers, without passengers, as in no-carpooling? NINE OUT OF TEN is my average. Just imagine how much traffic would be eased if one or two more of those ten would carpool, or (gasp) think about taking the bus themselves? I was Green waaaay before Al Gore made it cool again!