WASHINGTON AND LARK: THE CENTER OF THE BUS-RIDING WORLD

I did it. I got the Number 9 today. The non-Albany High School Number 9. I thought it would take me straight out to Washington, but it actually went in the opposite direction down Western and I got off at Washington and Lark. It wasn't so much that I was worried I wouldn't catch a bus, as just about every downtown Albany schedule stops at Washington and Lark; I was worried I wouldn't catch a bus that would get me to work on time since I spent the first ten minutes of the trip going in completely the wrong direction.

On the plus side, I saw many familiar faces, including a pre-teen I met this summer at Grease with Eric. He took all Eric's gum, talked to anyone who looked his way, and then jumped on stage at Playhouse to do the Running Man before security chased him off. He was a fun kid. Blond headed, blue-eyed, highly vocal, and full of trouble.

I admit, though, I tried not to look at him this morning. I knew he'd talk to me, and I had more pressing matters like: where am I supposed to get off the bus? When's the next 12 coming along? Am I stepping on my pant-leg? He's the only ten year old kid I ever avoided, and now I know he rides the 9. I won't avoid the 9 now; I'll just avoid conversation until I get this commuting thing down.

When I talked to my mom yesterday, pressing her to take my survey, I finally told her about this project. Seeing as how she's the one who told me a stalker was picked up looking in her colleague's window one block over, and has never been overly trusting of mankind, I thought for sure she'd tell me I was crazy for giving up my car to walk and bus all over Albany. Instead, she was thrilled.

"I loved riding the bus! I made a lot of friends."

I remember one of those friends. Louis. He was one of the drivers when she was going to Russell Sage College in Troy but still living in Colonie. She would have been eighteen or nineteen years old at the time, but she remembered him long after the last time she'd seen him. I witnessed the surprise meeting in front of Price Chopper; I was seventeen. Louis hugged me. When we got in the car, I was still stunned a middle-aged man randomly hugged me in a parking lot.

In the car, I asked, "Mom, who was that guy?"

She chuckled. "Oh that's Louis." She said it was an old friend of hers who used to drive the bus when she was in college. (My step-father later told me she dated him very briefly, in the 70's.)

It didn't mean much to me then, but I have context now: context for finding friends and love, on CDTA. If its "Buck-a-Ride" Campaign doesn't pan out, I think they should advertise from the finding friends and dating each other angle. People will do anything for love, especially if they get to save money at the same time.

I'm fascinated by the number of pre-college aged students riding CDTA buses in the morning. Albanyschools.org advised that CDTA transports students in grades 7-12, and those students that live within a 1.5 mile radius from school. Even though I took the Big Girl Number 9 today, there were still a number of young students on the bus, younger even than the high school students on the Knucklehead Number 9 from last week. They were cute. They poked and giggled at the back of a man's newspaper as he read the other side. In turn, he ignored them completely.

After the kids got off, I asked the man if the bus went to Washington and Lark. He informed me it went all the way down to Broadway (which I knew, I just didn't want to stay on parallel streets the entire way there). I thanked him and went back to giving him his space. I figured he needed it seeing as how right after the kids left, he got up and moved to the back of the bus.

Washington and Lark is a fascinating place to hang out at 7:45 in the morning. It holds the richest cross-section of morning riders I've seen yet, perhaps because just about every bus stops there on its way uptown. There were more middle-aged riders there than I'd seen on the other routes, more young kids, college-aged riders (including the woman with the Human Rights Campaign patch on her bag that I sat next to last week), and a handful of disabled riders. I know that's an assumption, but I say it remembering the man who pounded across the street in an orange puffy coat yelling, "Hold it! Hold it!" to the bus stopped at the corner, and then stood in front of the bus for ten seconds reading the sign before getting on.

On the way up Washington Ave., the driver stopped three different times to answer questions for people waiting at bus stops who never actually got on the bus. I wish I could have heard what they were asking. Some of the questions looked pretty involved from the window. It was the first time I realized how flexible drivers must have to be to meet the needs of a very diverse group of people. In watching the bus driver from the middle of the aisle, it seemed like he had to switch mental gears every time he opened the door.

I was lucky enough to get on the Number 12 going to the State Campus today; but when I asked the driver if he stopped in front of my building, he informed me there was no stop there. Now I know it doesn't matter what Number 12 I take, I still have to walk down the ramp going into the campus from Washington and cross the other ramp that dumps cars right from I-85 into the campus. So far, I don't know how someone hasn't been killed, especially at night when it's dark and there are no sidewalks to use.

I know this is cheating, but I walked home from work again. I liked the downtime. It was a pretty nice walk once I reached Western. Lots of lights, lots of cars, nice big safe sidewalks.

Unfortunately, I have to take my car tomorrow as I have to leave and return to work; but if I feel so inspired, you might just get some more trivia, or a history lesson. I've been pulling together both. I'm just dedicated like that.