The Bus Reports

The Dublin buses and I have such a love hate relationship.

Since buses are a primary event in my life, I have many bus incidents to report. Multiple times, I've seen the chunky blue and yellow mammoths plowing past, and I have attempted to run to catch it, often with my arms outstretched and reaching while I skid down the street (which I'm sure looks absolutely hilarious if I was just an observer). Many times, I miss it by seconds, because the bus just doesn't stop unless someone puts their hand out to signal it. But other times, there's a line of people, and I just make it (I try not to forget these times as well). Today was brilliant, I just arrived at the stop in Dublin, and maybe one minute later, the bus 66b rolled by; it was like magic! Because you know, it gets very cold waiting for buses... and if you've just missed one, you can expect to wait 20 or so minutes till the next one comes to collect you. (that's the word they use here: collect you. =)

So now, there have been a couple Saturdays where I work both jobs, which adds up to about 10 hours total, an exhausting amount for one day. Coming home from working at Costa, the bus stop I take is at the top of a large incline, but if you go up the even steeper embankment, you can get there faster! So I'm trying not to slide down the snowy slope, and I look up, and there's the bus gliding past so rudely. I try calling out, try stumbling up faster, try waving my hand, reaching desperately. My voice is faint though, and it's too late. It had no reason to stop, so it kept on going. Afterward the word, "Wait! Wait!" kept replaying in my head. If I had just arrived seconds earlier... if I had just yelled louder...

I feel like in some metaphorical way that posture of my arms outstretched in desperation is how I've been living my life lately. "Wait! Don't leave me behind in the cold! Wait, please! I am in such need of a lift of warmth!"

There is also something about crying on a half-empty bus that is miserable and relieving and sort of necessary at times. It's happened on a handful of occasions, either because I am overwhelmed with how I've uprooted my entire life to a new place and foreign place, or because my job makes me tense and feel humiliated, or because of the various hurts in my life that bubble back up to the surface when I'm already stressed and require a few tablespoons of tears.

On Sunday, my housemate and I dropped Patti off at the airport at a terribly early hour (like 8am=) and coming back from it, I kind of just sloshed around my room in a sleepy, mournful manner. Then I was like, Man! I need to look up when I should catch the bus! I looked it up. shoot, one was leaving Right Then! So I rushed out the door. On Sundays there are fewer buses operating, maybe only one per hour, so even if you get to where you need to be like a half hour early, it's the only option besides being 15 minutes late. So I dashed through my neighborhood, though I must say it is terribly frightening to dash anywhere with the entire street and sidewalk being converted into a slippery ice rink. so I more slippered my way along, huffing and sluffling in the cold.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I live on a hill; it's called Captain's Hill (not sure who the captain is, but maybe he lived around here somewhere=). Now, it's a mere incline compared with the Mountain I had to climb every day last year. However for Ireland, it may as well be a mountain the way it's described, especially in this weather. I am embarrassed to describe this, but I must admit that every time I have gone down this hill into the village this week, I sort of shuffle along like a child who has just discovered static electricity on carpet. Granted, I'm also concentrating on not falling, so my face is usually scrunched a little in concentration as well.
It wasn't really possible for me to catch the bus, because it was due to arrive at my stop about 15-20 minutes after the scheduled time said it would leave the first stop from Maynooth (it's a very confusing way of doing things, you must understand - and also involves an amount of math power)... but I was trying anyway, scooting along as I was.
Rounding the corner after the hill, I see the terrible sight I knew would be there: no one was waiting at the bus stop. This is my true measure of whether or not I've missed the bus or not. A healthy row of 4-7 people and grand, I came just in time. A deserted sidewalk and, we've surely left without you.
So, seeing no one there signaled for the wave of panic to sweep my heart off my feet.
What was i to do? I was going to be late, and then they'd fire me, and I'll have failed, and, and, and, and. oh no.
So that's when I tried calling every person I knew who had a car. I think one of the worst feelings is relying on people you don't know all that well and feeling like you have nothing much to give in return. I really don't want to burden people.. so this is when I missed the freedom to drive my little Cora and to not have to depend on others. This is when I felt so alone without my network of people I could depend on, it hurt. This is when I felt so lost and scared and like a nuisance to others.
And after no one I called picked up,
And after I told God all of these things, I remembered:
Wait! what time is it? when do I work? 2, not till 2? and what time is it? 12:20? And - Oh. Oh, I'm okay. There's a bus that leaves Maynooth at 12:40. I have until 12:55 (at least) to be there. I - am going to be okay. Are you kidding me, Sara? Why did you freak out like that? geez.

It all was okay though. It was all okay.

Probably my favorite bus story though happened nearly a month ago now. I was working at the catering job (the first and only shift, so far) at the Irish Modern Art Museum. And I was able to leave at 11pm instead of 1am, which was actually rather marvelous because then I didn't have to pay the 5 euros for a night bus. So, but since I had been on my feet for too many hours (and since I foolishly chose to wear high heeled boots) I kind of stumbled out of the museum, my feet barely giving way underneath me. Excellent. so the next task is to find the nearest bus stop. After asking someone who had no clue (in the darkness of night time) I sort of limp in the direction mus travels. After going a block or so, I am horrified to see a 66 bus coming towards me. The horrifying part is, I am no where near a bus stop, and it will pass me without a thought. But feeling defeated already, I stretch out my arm (and I wish I could show this to you) but my face contorts into an agonized, "NO!!!!" position, and my arm with fingers also extended, as if by some magical power I can make the bus pull in next to me and open its friendly doors and whisk me home... but, so the bus driver sees me, and he ends up stopping at the light, nearly in front of me, except for a lane of traffic separating me. We make eye contact, and I just stand there, not sure what to do - would he let me on? cars are coming in the lane that separated us. Then, like a, "do you want on?" he motions with his head. Then I mouth, "CAN I? REALLY?" He opens the door, and I stumble across the road, my feet wobbly below me still.
Oh my gosh, I must look totally smashed! I get on safely enough, thank him profusely, and he drives off. I begin fumbling around to look for money. my purse isn't obeying, and my fingers feel shaky. (I'd just been pouring gallons of wine and champagne to dressed up important people). I can't seem to get my money out, and my feet decide to give way. Oh my gosh, Sara - you are Sitting on the floor of the bus, right next to the bus driver. Oh my word! Somehow though, that was the only was to find the right change. Totally embarrassed by the entire event, I waddle up the stairs, clutching the railing as the bus chugs on. My feet keep slipping on the stairs though - those silly high heeled boots. Did that just happen? I slump into a seat, and seconds later the bus pulls into a stop (where I should have been waiting). I could hardly believe that just worked, and even more so how totally drunk I must have appeared!
Yes, the bus and I definitely have a love hate relationship.