Crosstown Local Service Suspension Survival Tip: The Shuttle Bus Is Not— Repeat— NOT A Taxi

blood

Unlike a lot of folks, the disruption of G train service on weekends does not bother me the least bit. I am fully aware of and sympathize with business owners who will lose revenue as a result of what the MTA is doing: work on the “Greenpoint Tubes”. Lack of access equals less foot traffic which equates to less business. I get it. Really I do. I also understand the hardship this poses for those who have to commute to work, largely service workers all, on weekends. These hardworking (and largely underpaid) people get my utmost empathy.

However, as a citizen I do have to say there are some upshots to having a suspension of service. For starters: less foot traffic has made the neighborhood significantly quieter. Secondly, this has served as a crucial inducement for yours truly to direct her attention to some much-needed maintenance at Chez Shitty. Lastly, watching how my neighbors adapt to this change in their routine has proven to be interesting and downright hilarious. This post is about the latter-most two points.

Today’s “agenda” is simple enough: finish touching up the paint job in the bedroom and hang drapes (in anticipation of the upcoming heat wave). As is usually the case, this entailed a lot more preliminary preparation than meets the eye. Furniture had to be removed. Before furniture can be removed the overflowing contents of the laundry hamper has to be removed. For all intents and purposes the hamper has ceased to be little more than a general target, a marker if you will, of the day’s spent apparel. I learned upon further excavation this included shoes. Lots of them. I was not pleased by this and decided it was time to take action. I would procure not one— but TWO— laundry hampers: “his” and “hers”. As governmental policy “separate but equal” is a crock of shit— but anyone who has a partner will attest that on occasion this is not such a bad idea. It keeps the domestic peace.

My mission was simple:

  1. acquire two identical laundry hampers
  2. these would be found on Manhattan Avenue
  3. install them side by side in the place of the deceased one

For what it is worth, I was successful. However, when I crossed Greenpoint Avenue (headed south) I beheld something quite amusing. A young woman, upset that she had missed the shuttlebus, gave chase while her boyfriend/partner continued to talk on his cell phone. She managed to catch up to said bus at Noble Street and, her eyes lit up in anticipation, attempted to “hail” it as one does a taxi. No dice.

Not believing my eyes I decided to watch how this played out. In other words: I followed the couple who was following the bus (it was en route to where I was headed anyway, what’s another five minutes of my time?). Another attempt was made at Calyer.

hailingthebus

You cannot see her (her man friend photobombed my attempt to document this hilarity)— but here she is trying to get the attention of the shuttle bus driver once more. What followed provided yours truly with today’s heaping helping of Schadenfreude. Yet another wide-eyed look of hope and hand held high “hailing”. But this time it was clouded by the realization that the bus driver had not, in fact, simply not seen her the first time. Rather, she was being ignored. Yours truly commenced to laugh hysterically. I still am laughing.

When I arrived home I told the Mister about my little adventure. In the course of our conversation he made a very piquant point:

I wonder if she makes the conductor of the G train stop wherever she wants?

I’d like to see her try it. I mean, the amount of time and effort she spent chasing that bus down she could have simply waited for another one— or simply walked to Nassau Avenue. Hell, she was already halfway there!

I replied.

mapanno

 

The point of having public transportation is it serves the public. This is why it is called “public transportation”. A shuttle bus is not a taxi. If one requires a taxi many can be found here. Easily. Chasing down a shuttle bus is not only an exercise in futility but the sense of entitlement such an action entails provides ample entertainment to people such as myself. And one such person might take the time from more pressing/important matters (READ: procrastinate) to author a blog post about it. Hey, it is not like yours truly is going anywhere.

Cut these shuttle bus drivers some slack, folks. They have a job to do.

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