Tim Samoff // Weblog

Ok, so, imagine this. It is raining, like, hard. Not just a smattering of little drops, but coming down in buckets — the kind of drops that if one hits you square on the forehead, you’ll be mopping up water for the rest of the day.

And today is the day that I decide to try out Kansas City’s public transportation system for the first time — this being for reasons that may become evident in the next week or so. Now, I am the first to admit that I am not a public transit expert by any means, but I have had some experience getting around cities by using public transportation of some sort.

Today, I woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept much. In fact, I had probably dreamt four or five different dreams all having to do with busses in some way or another. I guess I was a little nervous. I mean, it is kind of scary to think about leaving my car at home and being wholly dependent on a couple of employees of the city. But, I was ready. I showered, dressed, put my lunch together, got my bus fare all ready, and ate breakfast; in true bus schedule fashion, my timing was impeccable. After saying goodbye to my wife, I was out the door and on my way to my Thursday morning adventure — if I had only known how much of an adventure it was going to be…

The bus stop is only about a block from our apartment so it took me little time to reach it (of course, with it raining and all, I had to stop off at my car to grab my umbrella). So, there I expectantly stood at the stop, clutching my lunch bag, my coffee mug, and my umbrella. The excitement was building and I gleefully looked down the street for the coming bus.

The wait for the bus wasn’t very long — if you have the KCATA website generate a schedule for you, it actually tells you when to leave your house! Once on the bus, I entered my fare, got my transfer slip, sat down, and we were off.

That’s when the first part of my doofusness began to kick in. The bus wasn’t going in the direction that I thought it should be going in. But, it was no time to fret, as there were plenty of opportunities ahead for the bus driver to turn the bus into the Plaza and head down the road that I needed to be heading down. But, once on Main Street, the driver didn’t seem to be making any attempt to get over into the left turning lane that headed into the Plaza. No, the bus kept heading north up Main Street and further toward downtown (definitely not the direction that I wanted to be going).

After a few more stops, I realized that the bus driver was never going to sense my errors and turn the bus around, so I decided to get off. I figured that I still might have time to call my wife to pick me up — though my pride was feeling pretty shot at this point and I began to have flashbacks of my mom or dad finding me after getting lost.

As I stepped off the bus, though, I noticed that a Metro Inspector car was parked in the parking lot across the street from me. Well, I thought to myself, this guy might be able to help me out. So I went to the corner and began to cross the street. My first attempt at jumping a puddle failed and my right foot went right into an awaiting gash in the road. Ugh. Just my luck. Then, halfway across the street, something happened to me that I had never experienced in my life. A car made a turn behind me and delivered me the cliché, movie-esque splash-from-a-puddle… Now, not only had I gotten on the wrong bus this morning and just stepped in an ankle-high puddle, but my entire right coat sleeve was wet. Just great.

Finally, I arrived at the Metro Inspector car. I approached and the guy inside rolled his window down about three inches. That’s all right, there are lots of weirdoes in the city and, hey, it’s raining. I asked him if he had a bus schedule and he did…sort of. It was a thick binder with all sorts of bus routes in it. After flipping through a number of pages, he found a bus that would, at least, get me back to the plaza — a much shorter walk back home. The Inspector pointed out the bus stop that I needed to go to and I was back to my journey. I still had my transfer card and I wouldn’t have to bother my wife.

When I got to the bus stop, I noticed that I was on the wrong side of the street again, but I trusted the Inspector’s instruction and decided to wait there. A few minutes later, a bus pulled up across the street (wait, was the Inspector pointing at that bus stop?!) and quickly left again because no one was waiting at the stop. A couple minutes after stewing about my misdirection, I decided to ask one of my fellow bus-stop-mates where this bus was going.

“We goin’ Kansah Citeh dahntahn,” the man said in a thick Jamaican drawl.

Great. Downtown. I didn’t even hesitate and began walking back down Main Street toward home. It was only about a mile and a half, and even with the rain, it shouldn’t take me too long. About a block away, I came to a phone booth and thought I’d try to see if my wife was still at home. Even if she didn’t have the time to come pick me up, I could still let her know where I was. Besides, I needed some emotional support right about now.

My wife was home and she assured me that she still had the time to come get me. I told her that I would try to walk as far down Main Street as I could before she arrived.

So, back on the street, I made my way in the pouring rain, clutching my lunch bag, my coffee mug, and my umbrella.

A few blocks later, the back of my pants were already drenched. The rain was coming down at an angle that was hard to stop with the umbrella. The lid of my coffee mug was filled with water and my lunch bag was dripping. This wasn’t going to be very fun.

I was back to the Plaza area to around the H&R Block headquarters on Main Street (after my wife read this, she pointed out that since I was still on Main Street, I wasn’t actually in the “Plaza area,” TS, 03/04/04) by the time my wife arrived. Any time would have been fine with me at this point, though. I got in the car, soaking wet, feeling very embarrassed. And, while this little predicament that I was in was pretty funny, I sure didn’t want to admit it. But my wife couldn’t hide the humor that she found in it. She laughed and tried to get me to laugh. But she was comforting about it too. And I appreciate her. (Actually, I don’t know what I would do without her.)

We drove back home and after a few more parting words, I got out and got in my car and drove to work.

So much for public transportation. Today…

I am a Public Transit Doofus and, tomorrow, I am going to try it all over again.