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Obvious Bicycle

1/2/2014

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When it comes to rehearsals or performances, I hate being late.  I'm the kind of person that races around feeling extra anxious, only to arrive to practice before the front doors are unlocked.  Last month, I arrived to all of my rehearsals about 30 minutes early.

Unfortunately, this habit doesn't necessarily apply to other areas of my life.
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I seem to have no concept of calculating distance when something music-related isn't my final destination.  Some of this is due to the fact that I rely on public transportation, which can be a bit erratic at times.  Some of this I blame on Google maps.  I have no idea how they calculate walking time, but they should make an option available for people that have shorter legs...because I have never been able to measure up to their standards.  It doesn't help that I have the worst sense of direction ever non-gifted to a human being.  Whenever I'm traveling to somewhere new (and by travel, I mean a combination of walking/taking the bus), I usually give myself a half hour leeway time, which I call "inevitable getting lost time."

I was going to say it's a good thing I don't mind getting lost, but I think the truth is I've just gotten used to it.
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"Kate, we have to go back!"
I cut it close the most when it comes to catching the Greyhound/BoltBus, the Amtrak, or a plane.  I feel a good portion of my life has been spent running through the airport terminal or stumbling around after a bus whilst hoisting a duffel bag over my shoulder.  I have a strange inner daredevil that derives the most pleasure from seeing how crazy I can be when it comes to departure times.

"You COULD leave now and get to the Amtrak station a half hour early, just to be safe...or hey, how about we live life a little on the edge and arrive there RIGHT on time?  Yeahh, you adrenaline junkie you."
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Living life on the wild side. That's me.
Back when I was in high school, getting to the bus early was crucial.  If I raced out of my last class, swept out my locker in record time, and booked it, I could get a coveted window spot in the bus.  If I was a bit late, I'd more likely have to cram into a seat with two other disgruntled kids.  I really despised riding the bus back then.  Getting in and out is like moving yourself across a crowded movie aisle, only with half the amount of space.  High school kids (at least those that ride the bus) have no concept of their bodies yet, so you're either smothered in copious amounts of body odor or noxious fumes of cologne.

Getting a seat on the Greyhound or BoltBus is no different, really.  If you get there early, you can get a nice window spot so you can sleep.  If you get there late, it's really a question of which seat partner seems the least shady.  I actually won't ride Greyhound anymore.  I used the restroom in the Seattle Greyhound Station once this past year and it was honestly a harrowing experience I don't wish to repeat.
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I googled "Greyhound is shady" and got this picture.
Getting to the BoltBus from my house is a bit convoluted though and arriving at the time I want to is a Russian Roulette based on how the public transit gods feel that day.  I played it a bit fast and loose on my most recent foray.

To get you up to speed, in order to get to the Seattle Boltbus station, I walk to the bus stop and catch a bus to take me to the downtown bus tunnel.  Then I transfer onto another bus there, which takes me right under the Boltbus.  It's a bit cumbersome when you're lugging around a suitcase, so I should have left early...but as I've already made clear to you, that's not how I roll.  Plus, I woke up a little late.

After running around willy-nilly in my apartment and then out to the bus stop, I caught a bus downtown.  I arrived at the bus tunnel about 15 minutes before my Boltbus was scheduled to depart.
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I wish.
The nice thing about the bus tunnel is that there are always several buses going through it every few minutes.  I felt somewhat confident (forcefully optimistic) about catching one.  There are three different kinds of buses that go through the tunnel.  The first is a regular metro bus, which I had a transfer ticket for.  The second is a sound transit bus, which I prepared the extra fare for.  The third is the Link train, so to be safe, I tagged my bus card to prepay for my fare.  I wasn't taking any chances.  I had to catch the first bus that came through the tunnel, come hell or high water.

Of course, a beeping noise loud enough for everyone to hear (including a Metro employee standing five feet away) announced that my card's funds were insufficient to pay for the Link ride.

And then an announcement came on overhead to inform everyone that the Link train was coming through in two minutes.
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I flew like the wind back up the escalator up to the Metro Card machine to reload my card (WHY don't they just have the machines downstairs next to the buses?) and ran back down just in time to race into the Link train and collapsed on a seat as the doors slid close after me.

Now, I've always wanted to have a soundtrack playing in my life.  Some kind of musical Morgan Freeman narration as I stride around the streets of Seattle or some accompanying violin strains for life's heartbreaks.  Usually I wake up with a random song playing in my head, but it never extended past that until this day.  My ipod was on shuffle this whole time, and while I was running, this song was playing:
And as I sat there, nervously checking the time at every single bus stop with my palms perspiring, the next song that came on was Lykke Li's "Unrequited Love"...which starts out with her plaintive voice singing:

"Once again, it's happening..."

I'm happy to say that I arrived at the BoltBus exactly one minute before it departed.  I found a seat next to a nice gentleman who had a Zelda screensaver on his phone.  I'm not sure I want to repeat this endeavor though.  Seeing as how this is my first post of the new year, perhaps I should make an effort to not to make every travel departure a cardio exercise.

But I don't really believe in making New Year's resolutions.
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    tisburelaine.

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