Bike 1, Bus 0
It snowed hard for about twenty minutes last night and Seattle awoke to icy streets and crunchy sidewalks. I left for the UW at about 7:30, expecting to arrive, as usual, a bit before 8:00.
Half a block of gritting my teeth and playing foot-down on the ball-bearing slippery road convinced me that discretion was the better part of valor and I should catch the bus instead.
Mistake.
I waited twenty minutes until the 48 showed up, fifteen minutes after it was scheduled to arrive; unfortunately, , it already had two bikes loaded on it. The driver assured me however, that the next one was “right behind.”
Another 20 minutes passed—I was now only 10 minutes away from being late to class—and two busses, back-to-back arrived. I loaded my bike onto the second one, there being more seats available, and sat down hoping that this could be the fastest trip every to Montlake, thereby enabling me to arrive just as my class began wondering where their teacher was.
Nope.
By 8:30, we’d gone a total of five blocks and the line of cars stretching in front of us down 23rd Avenue appeared endless. I’d already borrowed a cell phone from a perfect stranger—(see? Who needs one?)—to inform the Department I wouldn’t be in until 9:00 at the earliest, but it was starting to look like that was overly optimistic, so I decided perhaps discretion was overrated and hopped off the bus and grabbed my bike.
In fact, it was only slightly terrifying rolling down the rutted and chipped frozen sleet on the steep sidewalk of 23rd street and well worth it as I made it to the Montlake Bridge not only long before the bus I was on but far ahead of both the ones that had passed mine earlier.
I got to class late, but in one piece, students still waiting patiently, my only regret that I hadn’t stayed on two wheels in the first place.
Half a block of gritting my teeth and playing foot-down on the ball-bearing slippery road convinced me that discretion was the better part of valor and I should catch the bus instead.
Mistake.
I waited twenty minutes until the 48 showed up, fifteen minutes after it was scheduled to arrive; unfortunately, , it already had two bikes loaded on it. The driver assured me however, that the next one was “right behind.”
Another 20 minutes passed—I was now only 10 minutes away from being late to class—and two busses, back-to-back arrived. I loaded my bike onto the second one, there being more seats available, and sat down hoping that this could be the fastest trip every to Montlake, thereby enabling me to arrive just as my class began wondering where their teacher was.
Nope.
By 8:30, we’d gone a total of five blocks and the line of cars stretching in front of us down 23rd Avenue appeared endless. I’d already borrowed a cell phone from a perfect stranger—(see? Who needs one?)—to inform the Department I wouldn’t be in until 9:00 at the earliest, but it was starting to look like that was overly optimistic, so I decided perhaps discretion was overrated and hopped off the bus and grabbed my bike.
In fact, it was only slightly terrifying rolling down the rutted and chipped frozen sleet on the steep sidewalk of 23rd street and well worth it as I made it to the Montlake Bridge not only long before the bus I was on but far ahead of both the ones that had passed mine earlier.
I got to class late, but in one piece, students still waiting patiently, my only regret that I hadn’t stayed on two wheels in the first place.
posted by Professor Dave at 9:43 PM
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