I had to go back to my doctor today to confer about the unwelcome lump of something or other and lay out the next steps in what to do. He also mentioned that my blood sugar level in the previous test was 2.6, which is apparently exactly on the line between “this is okay” and “this is not at all okay” so I have to get a formal blood sugar test, the ultrasound and who knows what else.
The ultrasound is already scheduled so I’ll probably get the blood work done the same day in the morning. And the ultrasound is at Richmond Hospital instead of Royal Columbian. You know, the hospital I literally live right next door to. Anyway, it’ll be a fun day with poking and prodding and the actual topic of this post…
Buses.
I had to catch a bus at the Brighouse SkyTrain station (the 410, to be specific) to get to the clinic today. I checked ahead of time, noted when it departed and all that. Then I got on the right bus (410) but headed in the wrong direction because I wasn’t paying attention. I managed to get to the clinic only 10 minutes late as a result (and still had to wait 10 minutes more) but this particular bus reminded me why I dislike buses so much. Compared to trains:
- they can get snarled in traffic and delayed. It took five minutes just top move past the first block.
- the seats and aisles are unpleasantly narrow. I am not a wide person but even I find the space on a bus cramped at the best of times. There’s a reason they evoke sardine cans. The cramped space also makes it difficult to exit the bus as you must squeeze your way past everyone between you and the door.
- constant stops. For the first two-thirds of the trip, the bus pulled in at every stop and the stops were usually spaced only two to four blocks apart (WHY?!) This stretches out the trip nigh unto infinity.
- too many drivers don’t understand that they are carrying humans, not cargo that has been secured to the floor. They stab the brakes, causing standees to stumble about, then stab the gas, causing the standees to stumble again, but in the opposite direction. They gun it before people can sit. They forget to release the lock on the back exit, even though people are standing there waiting to get off. They run yellow and even red lights. Not all drivers are bad, of course, but the point is NONE of them should be bad drivers. It’s their job.
Anyway, if I was king I’d retire every bus and put in light rapid transit all over the place. I don’t care how much it costs, I’d do it and my loyal subjects would love me. They’d call me King Transit, Master of Trains.
A possible compromise might be to put the buses in transit-only tunnels. This would effectively turn them into trains. The cost could be partly offset by plastering every last cm of the tunnel walls with ads. I’d even be okay with sponsored stops. “The next stop is Boundary Road, brought to you by the refreshingly crisp taste of Coca-Cola.”
Or better yet, someone should invent teleporters. Screw this transit stuff altogether. You can keep the flying cars, just let me beam to the doctor’s office in five seconds instead of taking over two hours.
