The Privilege of the Bus Rider

One of the blogs I frequent has a post up about the federal government investing in making cities more walkable and generally building up a public transportation infrastructure. The reasoning? More walkable cities reduce drunk driving incidents.

Reading the comments was a bit surreal. I was struck by the amount of push back by self-identified, progressive feminists resisting the idea of using public transportation in that a city with a decent, late night system and foot-accessible streets. There is legitimate criticism over the goals of MADD, as it has turned into a neo-prohibition organization, but that did little to undercut the tone of “rather drive drunk then ride the bus or hail a cab”.The unconscious privilege and downright social snobbery over riding the bus left me cold.

I'm not talking about the readers who have experienced harassment, including one who was mistaken for a prostitute and propositioned repeatedly while waiting for the bus. It is a legitimate fear and one incident would be enough, I think, to put me off riding the bus at night for some time.

Rather it is the classist comments about not wanting to wait, to share space on the bus/el/T/metro/subway late at night with dirty, crazy, homeless, or poor consumers of public transportation that were off putting. I've shared space with crazy in a lot of different settings. The crazy I've seen on the bus is not half as frightening as the crazy I've seen in my working life.

With respect that “the plural of anecdote is not data” for myself or any of the posters, aware of my own privilege that leaves a white, conservatively dressed, on the downside towards middle age woman reasonably safe on the mean streets of Pittsburgh, the worse that has happened to me after six years of taking public transportation is repeated falls on the sidewalk near my stop (never salted until after the weather stops), waiting in frigid weather for a bus that never showed, witnessing the ranting and rude behavior of angry motorized scooter guy and a verbal screaming match between a driver and a rider shortly after I started riding the bus.

The kindness I have witnessed outweighs all the falls on an icy sidewalk. From drivers who saw me coming down my street and waited for me. From one who, when forced to let us off in in the middle of a lane, stepped into traffic to ensure that we made it to the curb safely. From another who risked being reprimanded to get me near my destination – even though it was my fault for taking the incorrect bus. I have experienced fellow passengers retrieve my dropped gloves and offer me cough drops when I was sick. And offer to buy me a cup of hot tea at McDonald's on that frigid night when the bus never showed. And my personal favorite, fearless older women haranguing young men about their inappropriate behavior and lack of deportment towards other citizens on the street.

I've had to adapt. Remember to pack hat, gloves and scarf in my bag and wear my long coat in winter, so I am warm enough on cold nights. Remember to pack novel, notepad and pen for long waits and delays. Carry some cough drops and tissues. Say good morning and good night to the drivers. Relax.