In Which My Brother Takes the Bus
[A]fter I got all showered and dressed, I stepped outside and walked to the corner where there’s a septa bus box I can stand in when the weather is bad. Unfortunately, today the rain was actually coming down inside the box. No biggie - I have my Gore-Tex flight jacket that keeps me warm and dry. I have my umbrella…
After waiting about five minutes, here comes the SEPTA bus I take to work in the morning. I pull off my jacket hood, close up my umbrella and climb aboard. I pay my fare, walk to the middle of the bus and sit down.
On a wet seat.
“WTF?”
I look up and there’s water pouring - literally pouring into the bus - through the fluorescent light fixtures, the windows and even the speakers that announce station stops.
So much for my Gore-Tex flight jacket. So much for my umbrella….
My ass is now soaked and I decide to cross the aisle to the other side of the bus and sit down on a dry seat on the other side. Only problem with that idea? The seats on that side of the bus are also wet from the water that has been pouring into the bus.
The situation with SEPTA is really intolerable, to a degree so egregious that even bothering to look up links citing the authority’s abuse of its power and neglect of its facilities and vehicles is an exercise in redundance: everyone who lives in Philadelphia has a nightmare story or six.
Meanwhile, all of the candidates have something to say about SEPTA, with varying degrees of sincerity and feasibility (although outside of Michael Nutter and Chaka Fattah (pdf), none of the others seem to have detailed strategies available at their sites), and with Democrats controlling Harrisburg and DC, as well as a little luck and sheer force of will, maybe something will finally happen to improve our long ignored transit system.
Now that you’ve stopped laughing at how stupendously naive I must be, there is one thing you can do for yourself: take five or ten minutes to write a letter to SEPTA complaining when this kind of thing happens to you. It’ll cost you thirty-nine cents, and probably get you a few free passes (as my housemate will confirm).
To gain more immediate attention, cc your complaint to the Board:
Elizabeth M. Grant, Secretary to the Board, 10th Floor, 1234 Market Street, Philadelphia, PA 19107.
One Response to “In Which My Brother Takes the Bus”
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April 20th, 2007 at 9:28 am
Wow, your brother actually has a *bus shelter* at his stop? Isn’t he the lucky one! The bus stops I utilize for my usual commute all require me to stand in the street and look out for the bus. There’s no shelter, heaven forbid anywhere to SIT DOWN, nothing but a battered metal sign affixed to a nearby telephone pole identifying this as a place where the bus will stop, if you’re lucky. I have learned the hard way - if I don’t actually stand in the street, if I wait on the sidewalk for the bus to come, it will blow right by me (this despite the fact that for at least one of these stops, there is a STOP SIGN at the corner of the bus stop). If the driver doesn’t see anyone standing in the street, he/she will slow down for the stop sign, then keep on going.
And don’t even get me started on “Vomit Annie” as I like to call her. I leave work at different times, but it’s usually in between 4 and 6:30 sometime. There’s one bus driver (I’ll usually catch her between 4:30 and 5) who is so choppy and jerky in her driving, that I am completely nauseated by the time I get home (and I’m not really prone to motion sickness). She’s thrown standees half the length of the bus. I cringe when I get on the bus and I see her driving. She usually peels out as soon as my hand gets near the fare box. Once she closed the bus door on the tail end of my coat as I was getting on the bus. That time of day, I usually scramble to be the first one to board, so that in case she is driving, I have some hope of being at least near to a seat before she floors it. Any 23 riders out there? You probably know exactly who I’m talking about.