Between Cherry St. and Downtown

A lot of my life happens between Cherry St. and Downtown.
I walk a half a mile down the hill to the bus stop at the end of Cherry St. If conditions are ideal, it takes 7 minutes. If they’re not, it can take 10 to 12. “Not” includes road construction, heavy traffic, and the rain for which the Portland metro are is known. Sometimes I pass construction workers, fellow college-agers, or neighbors. Some I smile to, some I wave at, some—time permitting—I talk to, and others I just ignore.

Usually bus 35 is on time, meaning that it comes at 21 or 51 after the hour. Occasionally it is a bit late, but not often. The 35 is the bus I ride most often. Once I had a 35 driver who I would sometimes see four times a day comment that I probably rode the bus more than any of the other “regulars.” We regulars don’t talk to each other often, but we all recognize each other, and will vouch for each other if one of us forgets our bus pass and we have a replacement or rookie driver.

Typically I listen to music, or do the crossword on the bus. However, I always pay attention to what’s going on around me. I’ve met and/or overheard some of the most interesting and strange things on the bus, little snippets of peoples’ lives. Sometimes the things I hear are educational, like the mini history lesson I got from a retired army drill sergeant the other day. Sometimes they are funny, like the guy who claimed to be the first American to set foot back on American soil after WWII was officially over because he had to hurry up and get the ship’s captain’s wife on the phone. I don’t know if half of the things I hear are true, but they’re interesting all the same. Sometimes people make me really mad, saying things so callous and/or vindictive. Sometimes I meet people I haven’t seen in ages, and we get some time to talk that we wouldn’t normally have.

I have a long commute—it can be over 2 hours one way, depending on traffic and road construction— but I don’t mind. It gives me time to organize my thoughts, and keep what happens at home from interfering with my work state of mind, and what happens at work from interfering with my home state of mind. My mom always said my dad was happier when he had a long commute, so I guess I get that from him.

I can honestly say I enjoy my time on the bus. It’s educational in more ways than one, keeps another car off the road, saves me the stress of worrying about finding parking at work, and it’s relaxing. I think that more cities need to follow Portland’s example when it comes to public transportation. That’s not to say that I think Portland’s public transportation system is perfect, but it’s a lot better than what I’ve dealt with in other cities. If people wore bumper stickers, I might have one that says “Ride the Bus!”