STRAPPED ON MY BOOTS AND HIT THE ICY ROAD

I had to take a week's hiatus from public transit last week. Between doctors' appointments, assignments due, group meetings, and my full-time job, there was no way I could rely on the wait and walking times required for bus riding.

In some ways, it was nice to be in my car again. Mostly because I could sing Christmas songs at on I-85 with my window down. They don't let you do that on the bus.

Driving was also a time-saver, as mentioned above. So far, the shortest time it's taken me to get to work on the bus was 45 minutes. Living only three minutes away means driving instead of riding saves me at least a half hour I could use to drop off my laundry or pick up some groceries on my way to work or an appointment.

On the other hand, I felt guilty about it. It felt frivolous, especially the day when I drove my car around the State Campus for twelve minutes just because I needed to get away from desk.

I was back at it today, however. It was a crazy day to start riding again. The storm last night covered every walkable inch of pavement with a sheet of ice by this morning. I almost fell three times just walking out the back door.

In this way, I was thankful for cars. Albany salts the roads for cars. It doesn't for pedestrians. Dark and slippery or not, I decided it was safer to walk in the road than it was to walk on the sidewalk.

Because of the weather, I took three perfectly timed buses to work, instead of walking further uptown and riding just one. Waiting was minimal, and so was walking, and as an added benefit, I didn't have to scrape my car. As a result, I was in a much better mood when I got to work.

For the record, I wore hiking boots. I have to tell you that because my grandmother scolded me when I talked to her later in the day. She asked if I drove. I told her I took the bus. She said, "You could have gotten killed!"

I calmly explained that I was safer in my sneakers than I was in a car.

"You didn't wear boots!"

Grandmothers are always concerned about wet hair and shoe attire. I, in fact, was wearing boots this morning, but sneakers came out of my mouth when I was talking to her. Sometimes I pick the wrong word.

However, don't tell Gram that I walked home after work. I was undecided about whether or not I'd ride home or walk, but when I got to Washington Avenue, I couldn't find my wallet in my bag, which meant I had no swiper and no cash. Also don't tell her that I was wearing sneakers. I forgot I changed my shoes when I got to work.

Regardless, I made it home OK. The same time as my roommate, as a matter of fact, who'd driven from Rensselaer.