Chronicles 3:11

The 311 Chronicles; Observations and Reflections of a Metro Bus Rider.



After many a ride on the Puget Sound’s finest transit system; King County Metro, I have attempted to collect my thoughts regarding the observations of some of their riders. Here's an attempt to share them with anybody looking for a good laugh. The stories are true, best to my recollection.

When it comes to the early, early morning, I prefer to keep things quiet and mellow & collect my thoughts to prepare for the day ahead. Mornings in general give me the most stress and anxiety. I have developed an unwritten process that helps me get through it. It’s something that has taken time to sort out what works and what doesn’t. What doesn’t is when others rudely invade my quiet time. I can deal with cordial “good mornings” or “hellos” to familiar faces, that’s okay with me. Just don’t expect much out of me until I am fully awake.


With that bit of info, I give you my first entry into the 311 Chronicles.

1/22/09 – Woodinville Park and Ride. O’Dark thirty in the A.M. Dark, dreary, cold. A lot of gray to go with the blackness of early morning. Low clouds, fog mid 30’s. An icy sheen covering the pavement/sidewalk (some of it related to the weather…) There’s people emerging from their cars and skulking across it like a scene from “Night of the Living Dead”. It’s as if Voldemort has Dementors breeding right there at the transit station. In other words at first glance, nothing has changed in the nine months since I’ve ridden the bus on a regular basis.

I climbed out of my truck, threw my bag over my shoulder & crossed the icy black pavement shining under the golden glow of the parking lot lamps & approached the “line” waiting for what appeared to be the 311 going downtown. I recognized some familiar faces among those conformed along the curbside from my previous adventures coming and going to Seattle. Most notably; the “Line Nazi Lady” standing at The Head. The Front. The #1 coveted spot of said “line”. Eva Braun couldn’t have been prouder.

Our eyes met as I slumped across the crosswalk. I knew her immediately. It’s as if it took a few seconds for her to grasp who she was looking at. I walked past her to my usual spot I always waited for the bus and turned around, behind the “line” and not joining the “line” with the rest of the drone-like, mindless travelers.

She looked over her shoulder and gave me the familiar grimace of disdain that I remember with what appeared to be a of dawning comprehension. It all started in much the same way as this morning. She continued to look but her thickly coated lips didn’t part before she turned back around with a little chuckle to herself. She had to remember our encounter over this same issue a few months ago. I would hope, at least. I didn’t want to go through it again.

In the semi darkness I could still see the unnatural coloring of her hair, a stark contrast to her advanced age. The lack of gray didn’t look right with the copious amounts of lines, wrinkles and bags that constituted her face. Her attitude appeared to be the exact same that I recall. She was not that big in stature just big on forming the correct “line” (in her mind) while waiting for the bus. Otherwise, I would have given her no notice as I do with most of the other riders. I just want to get to work without a hassle. Find a seat and relax. I can tell it will take some time to get used to working days again after nine months of after hours shifts. At least I haven't turned to stone or anything...yet.


The Story;

It recalled to me the first time I had crossed paths (“lines”) with Eva. One chilly morning when I didn’t stand in her “line” of conformation. I'd been catching the 311 day after day after day and playing the same smirky games with her as I passed by to wait for the bus for yet another ride to work. I could tell it bothered her if I didn’t get in her “line”. She would leer at me while I silently leered back, slurping my latte and left it at that. By the time I was on the bus and situated, I pretty much forgot about her or anything about getting on the bus.

It’s really tiresome to concern myself with such inane issues, yet I was thrust into them without doing a thing other than minding my own business. Now I felt forced to respond. Where I stood in line for the bus paled in comparison to where I currently stood in the daily grind of life. At the time I had a rather overflowing plate, on top of my already tenuous early morning stresses.

It first started with a couple of “Harrumphs” of displeasure and glances my direction. Being barely awake and hardly aware of my own consciousness it took a bit for them to sink in properly. I had gotten rather used to ignoring others during the commute, not out of spite more out of just being me. But there I was, taking notice of what was going on around me. Like a turtle from it’s shell and not really wanting any part of it.

Eva then turned to the second lady in “line”, nudging her with a whisper in her ear. Both of them looked over their shoulder at me, I mock smiled back at them. Then they turned & started to cackle back and forth. About that time another bus, not 311, rolled up. A few people standing behind the forming “line” came forward from the covered waiting area and had to step through and around those gathering in “line” for 311 to board their bus.

The bus pulled out and again they both turned and looked towards me. If she hadn’t said it I wouldn’t have believed it. It really took a moment for it to register with my barely functioning brain. Very loudly Eva proclaimed; “I should write a book about rules to ride the bus!” Followed by something about it was so simple and people not following the rules and being rude. The other lady laughed with her.

I felt something I don’t usually feel at that time of day, a bit of fire burned in my stomach as I listened. I was actually perking up and getting a tad angry at this pathetic display in front of me. As if being up at this time of day was bad enough, let alone already having plenty of life’s issues gnawing at my insides, to argue about my place in line for the stinking bus I found beyond annoying.

They turned to look at me again after her loud announcement. Without thinking about it, as almost I was standing outside myself and watching, tempered rage started to kick in.

“Are you talking to me?” I asked as loudly as she proclaimed her book intentions. A bit of shock flitted across her over pancake colored face. Her cheeks flushed even under the thick makeup, or maybe it was just the terrible lighting there at the bus stop.

She lied & blurted out “No”.

“Then who were you talking to?” I replied, as serious and sober as I could be, looking past her to her “line” mate. Still quite loud.

“Uh, I, uh….” she stammered, then feebly motioned towards the lady next to her, who in turn cowed in an attempt to disappear into the “line” behind her. “People, er, bus riders, I guess”.

“Me then”, I said flatly.

From my vantage point, I could see the 311 pulling into the Park and Ride from across the parking lot, those in the “line” were blocked by the sheltered benches and could not see it so nobody moved while I stepped forward. Eva turned back in haste and I approached to prepare to board as the bus then turned into the waiting area. Everyone in “line” started making movements to ready themselves for boarding.

“I have some suggestions for your book”. I said as I approached still a bit surprised at myself for being so bold so early.

Weakly, she said “you would?” Her “line” mate appeared to shrink out of site.

“Damn right. Let’s start with proper line formation”. She didn’t say anything, her confidence wilting in front of me while she moved about gathering her things. “Do you know why I don’t join that “line”?” A few of the sleepy faces in line turned like robots to begin boarding.

Eva fumbled with her bags, took hasty notice of the arriving bus and replied with a quiet “No”.

With relish, I filled her in; “Well, I realize that other buses come and go from here. Apparently you haven’t noticed, your “line” along the curb blocks other riders from getting on their buses. People have to step around you (and others) to get on their bus. It’s rather selfish (or ignorant) to stand where you are if you ask me”.

More silence, her face actually showing some natural color under the several layers of make up, or perhaps latex. More people in line now looked forward not only in anticipation to get on the bus, but to take notice of the commotion going on ahead. The bus slowly rolled up to the stop, a brief pause before the doors opened.


“Secondly, standing along the curb, with moving traffic isn’t very smart. Even worse when it’s dark outside. It’s harder for the driver to see you. You are very close to a big, heavy rolling vehicle. A small slip up and you could be under it before you know it”.

She stuttered, searching for words that wouldn’t come. She did manage; “well uh,” and “I guess not” amongst her babble when being pushed on her comments. She made for the bus door as it opened and I pressed on as we climbed aboard. I followed right behind her up the steps still sharing my book input in her ear.

“When I was a kid, waiting for the bus to school we knew how to line up; perpendicular to the bus, this way a straight single line forms in front of the bus door”, I said gesturing out the door we just entered. “If you notice, that is where I was standing. Why is it that grade schoolers can figure this out on their own, yet it’s beyond some grown ups comprehension?”

The “line” stopped because she had to fumble in her pockets in search of her transit pass, now completely flustered and stammering while the bus driver watched somewhat bemused. She dropped her bag attempting to find her pass then finally found it in a coat pocket, swiped the card reader & not so hastily moved on to her seat gathering up all of her accoutrements which was the first one she came to which caused the “line” to stop again.

She made busy storing her stuff and tried to ignore me as I waited to pass by. I let out a big pronounced sigh; “Now you take the first seat available so everyone behind you has to wait yet again to get on”, I pointed to the many riders still standing outside waiting to get on. “Does it really matter that you are the first in line when there are more than enough seats to be had on the bus?” Then I pointed to the mostly empty bus seats behind her. “Instead of making us all wait, again, keep moving and take one of the many open seats farther back so the rest of us can get to ours”.

With no reply except unintellegible mumbling, I wrapped up my presentation looking down on her perfectly brownish auburn colored hair (plenty of scalp there too, I noticed); “Here’s another tip: Have your pass ready before you get on the bus so we can load faster next time. Good luck with your book, it sounds like a real winner” I said finally passing her in my way towards the back of the bus.

I sat down with my heart now pumping much more that it’s used to at that time of day. My mind instantly started to dwell on what had happened. So much so that I forgot about listening to my usual talk radio until the bus got onto the freeway. Why is the concept of the Golden Rule lost on some people? Rudeness exuded when complaining about perceived rudeness is quite a sight to behold.


So, today the bus arrived on time and I took my place out of the way, noting things have not changed all that much in over nine months. Laughing to myself that school children understand the basics of things such as catching a bus while quite a number of adults struggle with the idea. I’m wondering how Eva’s book came out? She’s still here, so it’s my guess that it’s not on the best seller list anywhere. I hope we can finally settle this stupid behavior, I tried to do so before. I still much prefer the quieter start to my day & this morning, the latte tastes extra good.

Stay tuned for my next dispatch of the 311 Chronicles, more fun to follow.