Saturday, December 09, 2006

"As I creep through the underbrush, I spot the elusive #8...."

Continuing the transit theme from my last post, I would just like to say that the buses here in Vancouver suck. No, let me amend that, the buses themselves are just fine; the eccentricities of the transit system here suck. Now, back in Winnipeg, and I don't know how it is where you live, buses have routes and schedules, which the drivers attempt to adhere to with some regularity. Here, the routes seem to be at the mercy of the drivers, or some other as-yet-unknown entity. Case in point; last week I was at my favorite bar in Vancouver (the Pub 340 at Cambie and Hastings if you're wondering), and around twenty to one I got up to leave. As there were a few more buses scheduled to come around, I knew I had given myself plenty of time to catch one. So I walked the half block to the bus stop and I waited. And waited. And waited. Another fellow at the bus stop asked me: "The number eight fraser runs past here, right?" "Of course," I replied, in retrospect a tad optimistically. I smoked a cigarette. And waited. I smoked another cigarette. And waited. And waited. "You're sure the number eight comes by here?" asked the other fellow. "I'm... pretty sure," I replied, with rapidly flagging confidence. I confirmed for the thousandth time that I was at the right bus stop. I smoked another cigarette.
And so, an hour passed in this way, and I finally had to bite the bullet and admit that the bus just wasn't coming. Did the #8 fraser spontaneously stop running? Doubtful, more likely the bus was re-routed elsewhere through downtown.
Really, it's my fault; I should have sensed that the bus would be going a completely different way. I mean, what was I thinking? How could I be so naive as to think that the #8 Fraser would actually pass by the #8 Fraser bus stop? I am such a hick! I hope no sophistimicated Vancouverites read this and realise what a rube I am. I should just go back to the farm where the buses run on time.
Ahem. Anyway, I had to catch a cab which was annoying, as I hate taking cabs. Nothing against cabs or cab drivers, I just don't like being driven around by complete strangers, whether I'm paying them or not. It's a quirk of mine. So, I'm not crazy about catching cabs, and I'm really not crazy about catching cabs at quarter to two on a Friday night when I'm competing with, approximately, the entire population of Vancouver.
So now, every time I go downtown, I'm very apprehensive. There is absolutely no way to ensure, ahead of time, that I'll be able to get back home. Unless, of course, I get in the habit of wandering the streets of Vancouver and hoping to God I spot my bus, in which case I'd have to chase it down and incapacitate it in some way so I can board it. Much as the lion stalks a gazelle...


*Postscript! The one social difference I have noticed between Vancouverites and Winnipeggers, is that staggering numbers of people thank the bus driver here when they get off the bus. And I don't mean a discrete nod and a muttered 'hello' as they walk past the driver. They'll get off at the back doors and practiacally scream 'Thanks!" to the driver. We just don't do that in Winnipeg. I mean, really, why would you? It's not as if the driver was making a special trip just for you. I mean, he was going that way, anyway.

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