Downtown! It's where I like to work -- except for
minor inconveniences such as overpriced parking and the long commute
with rude, idiot drivers (you all know who you are). That's why I
began riding the bus. Mr. Toastmaster, fellow members, and guests, I
know what you're thinking: "hey Chuck, I've always wanted to ride the
bus, but I've been too intimidated." Well, I'm here to give you
practical advice on the etiquette of bus-riding. Follow these simple
tips to enhance your bus-riding experience.
First, keep telling yourself that "I can get there." It may take four
or five bus changes, but you can get there. Here's how to plan your
trip. Take your bus schedule and intersect where you are, where
you're going, what time you have to be there, what time you're
leaving ... oh, and let's throw in the phase of the moon and the
number of letters in your name just for grins ... oh yeah, here it
is: for information on metro routes, call 225-1010. That's the only
way to do it!
Second, mingle with the other regulars. There's the guy with a tattoo
of an anvil on his forehead, the petite oriental woman who reads
Spanish romance novels, the retired gentleman who goes downtown to
watch small claims court, and the young man wearing a suit and
preaching from the Bible. Use your listening and speaking skills to
invite your new friends to your Toastmaster club. Even better, earn
valuable points for your District by forming the world's first mobile
club on your bus!
Third, Take advantage of your new commute time. Remember that for
ever hour spent on the bus, that's about ten minutes that you aren't
in your car. Use the time to pursue your favorite hobbies. Except for
you Toothtations; I don't know about that lip-syncing! Common activities
are: reading, sewing, and sleeping. In rare cases, you can include
playing a musical instrument (like the boombox), but only if you're
real big and real mean-looking.
Fourth, stay alert, because opportunities for excitement constantly
surround you. I was riding home one evening when a man and woman got
on. I was immediately suspicious due to the enormous bulges under
their jackets, and I surmised that they were carrying portable
grenade launchers. Without delay, I hurled a couple of leftover
apples and knocked them both unconscious. I ran up to examine them
and noticed that he was wearing gold socks, and she was wearing red
socks to match his. Suddenly their nefarious scheme was frighteningly
obvious: their accomplices were going to kidnap Hakeem Olajuwon, and
this bus was supposed to be the getaway vehicle.
Only I had time to thwart their evil plan.
She introduced herself as Myrtle Doppenheimer, and we took off ä
and she's swerving around cars left and right. As she left the road
and began driving on the sidewalk, she explained that she used to be
a stunt driver. Perfect! I've seen enough Steven Segall action movies
to know the value of having a babe around to cover your back.
We came to acrowd and knew the rest of our progress would be by foot.
We dragged each other through the mob. But wait; this was game four
of the NBA finals, and we didn't have tickets. The guards refused to
let us enter; they were in on it!
Fortunately, Myrtle had been the lead architect for the firm that
built Greenway Plaza, and she knew an emergency access tunnel. We ran
to the feeder, descended a manhole, and headed towards the Summit,
but we met resistance ä a dozen men with machine guns. We
plunged forward. Myrtle eliminated six of them with her concealed
handgun, and I finished off the rest with a series of flashy kung-fu
moves. And my wife used to tell me that I was wasting my time
watching the Power Rangers.
There were only thirty minutes to gametime, and now our progress was
impeded by a locked metal door. Myrtle asked to borrow my tie.
Combined with her hatpin, cigarette lighter, and can of mace, she
constructed a crude blowtorch to melt the lock. Silently, we opened
the door and scouted the layout. It was about twenty yards from us to
a small room where Hakeem was tied captive. The tiled floor between
us was mined. Myrtle used her rope to lasso the doorknob, and she
held her end while I ran across it like a tightrope. At the other
end, I reprogrammed the alarm system to turn off the minefield.
We entered the room, but it was too late; Hakeem was drugged and
unable to play. What could we do? The Rockets were goners without
Hakeem, and this could swing the momentum to Orlando. There was only
one choice; I would have to take his place.
Myrtle converted her video camera into a projector and we dialed into
my Macintosh with her cellular phone. I programmed it to project a
holographic image of Hakeem's body over my own to keep the Magic from
realizing that it was me on the floor instead of him. You might
remember that I dominated Shaq that evening, scoring and rebounding
at will. I asked Myrtle if she wanted to start the second half, but
she just shook her head. I even ended the game with a 3-pointer, just
to show off.
So you see, there's no reason to be intimidated by Metro. Just
remember my simple tips:
1) be positive about reaching your destination;
2) make friends;
3) use your travel time constructively;
4) anticipate adventure --- especially if you ride with Metro's
newest driver, Myrtle Doppenheimer.
