I’ve been asked one of two questions lately. For those that don’t know me, the first question is:
Ewww why do you take public transportation?

For those who do know me, the question is:
So I know you’re not on the light rail line anymore, but why not write about your bus rides?”

Both of these are really good questions that I do have answers for. Let’s start with #1….

First of all, you have to be ignorant to think all public transportation is “ewwww”…and probably from Texas. If I lived in NYC and made 6 figs a year, I would be taking the subway, is that so “ewww”?

Reason #1 I use public transportation: Parking in the med center is so expensive because it’s probably being used to demolish buildings and build new ones. That’s what Houstonians do, we get bored of buildings so we blow them up and build new ones…..with the exception of the Astrodome….that guy will continue to be infested with asbestos way beyond my years.

Reason #2 I use public transportation: I’m saving the world. Even in a big diesel bus that emits 10 times the amount of CO2 that my car does. But at least there’s one less car on the road. This was a more applicable answer when I was on the light rail line.

Reason #3 I use public transportation: It’s like having a chauffeur. Technically, I’m a baller for having somebody else drive me to school/work and you’re a scrub that has to do it yourself. Sleep on the way to school? why not! I won’t even get in a wreck!

Reason #4 I use public transportation: I like to send complaint tweets to Metro when their buses suck and they fail to update their website. It’s like the checks and balances system of the government. If I didn’t ride, they wouldn’t have an active social media user rider to keep in check. I like to think of myself as the legislative system of Metro.

Reason #5 I use public transportation: My boyfriend won’t take me to school.

Now on to #2…why don’t I blog about the bus?

Have you ever been on the 87 bus line? It’s the most boring in the city. Of the 11 people on the bus this morning, there was 1 other dental student, 8 med students, 1 MD Anderson PhD student, and 1 lady who works somewhere in the med center.

How do I know this? I asked. But I really didn’t have to. I can categorize everybody on that bus route (maybe stereotype is the better word).

1. If you’re wearing misty green scrubs, you’re most likely a dental student. If you’re wearing misty green scrubs and I’ve never seen your face before, you’re from some other hospital.
2. If you’re wearing a short white coat, you’re a 3rd or 4th year med student.
3. If you’re wearing scrub bottoms and a tshirt with disheveled hair, you’re a med student with a test today.
4. If you’re wearing scrubs with cats on them, you work at some random office in the med center.
5. If you’re of Asian decent, speak little English, and sit next to me, you’re not moving when it’s my stop and will make my give you a lap dance on my way off the bus.
6. If you’re wearing scrubs, but have on make-up and cute hair, you’re probably a nursing student.
7. All the rest are grad students at MD Anderson studying cancer.

Now you can see how boring my bus rides are. They are not blogworthy at all, and I apologize for not heing able to brighten your day just a little but.

Moral of the story: I miss the lightrail just as much as you miss me riding it.

Today on the light rail, I was invited to Hustler Mondays.

A man dressed in really long red shorts and a flat billed cap (with the sticker still on it, of course) steps onto the light rail a few stops before mine. He is carrying a bag and a box. He immediately sets both down on a seat and grabs a handful of flyers. He begins passing these out, starting with the people nearest him and working his way towards me and the cracked out woman to my left.

At first he seems pretty liberal with his target flyer-takers. He hands me a flyer and then starts to hand one to the woman next to me. She slowly raises her head to grab it from his hand.

Hustler: “Oh never mind.”
The woman is confused and reaches for it and mumbles something that sounds like “wwwhhaaaayyyyyyy???”
Hustler: “Oh hell naw I ain’t wastin’ this $1 flyer on your cracked out ass.”

The woman sighs and mumbles something that I thought resembles “Stupid dumbass.”

Hustler: “I ain’t givin you nothin. We don’t want people like you at this party. It ain’t for people like you.”

The woman puts her head back in her lap and appears to cry. I feel bad at first but finally take a look at the card.

“HUSTLER MONDAYS” it read on the front.

The back featured an explicit picture of a very voluptuous woman. Apparently this club showcases the sexist ladies, along with a full kitchen till 5 am. Now, with my 25th birthday approaching, I never thought I was old but I was unaware there were clubs in Houston open past 2 a.m. Now if we were in NYC, I would understand, but these late night party places in Houston are new to me. I don’t think I would fit in.

The man continues to pass out the flyers in the front of the train. I notice him almost hand one an old man, then quickly snatch it back. I started to feel lucky that I was invited to such an awesome event. I guess even on those ponytail days at 9 a.m., I somehow resemble a party animal.

He returns to his seat to open a box full of CDs. I was unaware people still made and/or bought CDs. He turns to the man sitting across his row.

Hustler: “Yo man dis my album. I wantchu to take a look at it. It’s dat new shit you been hearin bout yaknowwhatimsayin?”

Man: “Aight.”

The Hustler continues to pass out CDs, but this time he skips me. He has conversations with a few other people and then returns to grab some more CDs. By this time, we’re at my stop, so I inquire about the CDs.

Me: “Are you any good?”

Hustler: “Well what kinda music you like?”

Me: “I dunno … all kinds.”

Hustler: “Dis ain’t no country or no Katy Perry California Girls shit you white girls listen to … dis is pimpin music.”

Me: “Well I’ll probably like it.”

Hustler: “Naw man this is from da soul. Dis is hardcore. Ain’t for you. But imam see you at da club, right?”

The doors open and I exit the train. I guess I’m not cool enough for the CD.

Moral of the story: I don’t think I have the appropriate attire for Hustler Mondays.

(you can also view this post on CultureMap)

Today on the light rail, I met a pirate.
I was completely tired and did not feel like riding the rail today, but I had no other choice. It was way too cold, so I knew finding a seat on the train would be difficult. Fortunately there were a few seats left. Unfortunately, I was welcomed to a seat by a man that not only reeked of alcohol, but needed a visit to the dentist office really bad.
Pirate: “mornin’ lady”
I mumble a not-so-pleasant gmornin back to him.
Pirate: “why so down?”
Me: “I’m tired.”
I’m still wearing my sunglasses at this point to avoid eye-contact, of course.
Pirate: “You knows what I can do to cheer ya up?”
Me: “I’m not unhappy, I’m just sleepy.”
Pirate: “well dis be sure to wake ya up!”
At this point, I feel like this man looks just like a pirate. Not like Captain Jack Sparrow, but the dirty pirates that you see when you go on the ride at Disneyland. He pulls out a bottle, concealed in it’s paper brown bag.
Pirate: “ya wanna swig of whiskey?”
Me: “It’s 9 am and I’m already late for work…no thank you.”
Pirate: “it ain’t ever to early for somethin to drink!”
Me: “Yes…it’s 9 am and I didn’t even eat breakfast yet.”
Pirate: “Whiskey is the breakfast of champions”
He says this with a wide grin, showing his rotten teeth. I begin to hope there’s not a parrot flying around somewhere.
Pirate: “Where ya headed this morn’?”
Me: “work.”
Pirate: “Where ya work?”
Me: “The Med Center.”
Pirate: “You a doctor?”
Me: “umm no..”
Pirate: “Whatcha do?”
Me: “It’s too complex.”
Pirate: “Ohhh Some sort of top secret nuclear bomb work?”
I begin to ignore this man because he’s just drunk and not making any sense. REALLY? Bomb work in the med center? That’s just ridiculous.
Pirate: “Ya seem a little tense, you sure you don’t want just a little swig?”
Me: “Not at all.”

The Pirate starts rambling some nonsense and I try to avoid him by checking up on twitter, until I realize he’s standing up and trying to climb over me. I quickly stand up to avoid an inappropriate brush of male body parts. As soon as I stand up out of the isle, he falls over onto the row across the way. His bottle falls out of his hands and onto the floor of the train. As it rolls down the aisle, the smell of whiskey causes the whole train to look our way. He stands up grabs his bottle, and gives a rather rude grunt sounding much like a “RRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrr” as he exits the train.

Today on the light rail, I gave a man directions- but he asked for a second opinion.
By no means am I a metro expert, I’m simply a very observant rider who can tell the difference between downtown and South Fannin. After adding money to my Q card on the platform today (I was given a warning ticket last Friday for an unpaid fare), I waited patiently for the usual 8:37 a.m. train. Being the nosey person I am, I heard a man talking to a girl on the other side of the platform. Five minutes later, the man hollered at me.

Lost: “Say…say…”

I’m always confused when people use this as a way to address somebody. I think to myself, “Say what?”

Me: “Yes?”
LostGuy: “say..which way I needa be goin if I am tryna get to Fiesta. I don’t wanna be goin to no downtown.”
Me: “Well that way is downtown, so you’re on the right platform.”
LostGuy: “So I be headin to Fiesta and Jack-in-the-box and Church’s that way?”
Me: “Yes sir.”
LostGuy: “So this train won’t be goin downtown?”
Me: “Nope.”
LostGuy: “So if I take this train, Imma get to Fiesta or at least da way I wanna be goin?”
Me: “Yes. What stop are you trying to get to?”
LostGuy: “Fiesta. Is dat dis way?”
Me: “Yes that’s what I said.”
LostGuy: “So I won’t be goin downtown if I take this train comin up?”
Me: “No sir.”
LostGuy: “Aight. Thank you.”
Less than a minute later, another man approaches the platform and this is when I realized lost homeboy was not satisfied with my directions.
LostGuy: “say man…”
Man: “yuh?”
LostGuy: “I’m tryna get to da Fiesta stop.”
Man: “You headin the right way.”
LostGuy: “aight thanks.”

That was that. LostGuy finally found his way by asking for a second (quite possibly a third since I didn’t hear his conversation with the other lady) opinion. And after asking me the same question ten times, he only asked the man once.

When the train approached, it was covered in a giant red sign reading “STOP. THINK.”, which totally threw this man for a loop.

LostGuy: “WHAT??? WHAT TRAIN IS THIS?!?!? I AIN’T NEVER SEEN DIS ONE.”
Man: “It’s an advertisement man, it’s goin da same way. Only one track in Houston, you on drugs or somethin?”
LostGuy: “hell I wish I was..”

Moral of the story: From now on, I will always give a man wrong directions because it won’t matter anyways.

Today on the light rail, I was (only for the 2nd time ever) not the person bothered by rando rantings.

I took a 6 day vacay to Colorado, hence the lack of posts but I was welcomed back to my territory by a group of 4 guys that looked most like the pot-smoking boarders on the slopes. I’m not trying to be quick to judge here, I’m just giving you a visual.

These boys..or young men…I couldn’t really tell if they were college or high school students (homeless teenagers would be ruled out because one kid was carrying an iPad) kept to themselves most of the ride until we reached one of the stops. A man gets on the train and immediately starts rambling to one of the boys.

Mumbles: “ajkghjerhtnmvjkhsgjkherjktebns”
Boarder: “yeah totally”
Mumbles: “agjkhsdfjkgnvsmnbgmn its colds ajkgdfgkadjghjkerhtjkah”
Boarder: “uh huh”
Mumbles: “jkasghjkhaerkjghekrjtg snext stops mine”
Boarder: “me too.”
Mumbles: “iagkjdgkjk cold aadklgjdjg atlanta ajkfdjkghdjgh snow aklgdjkljdgk dallas”
Boarder: “yeah man”
Mumbles: “ajgdjkfgajkdghjkdghjkerhtgkjerhtgkje bye”

Mumbles exits the light rail but the boys do not follow.
BoarderFriend: “wtf was he saying to you?”
Boarder: “hell if I know.”

Moral of the story: If you can’t understand somebody, you probably shouldn’t lead them on..what if they were asking for directions and you said ‘yep’? oh well..