How Not to Ride a City Bus

Have you ever found yourself suddenly sprawled on the floor of a city bus, while frantically trying to maintain contact with your two toddlers? Picture all the packages of the day scattered around the three of you amidst the quiet disdain of the more seasoned passengers. Let me tell you; I thought my blood might actually boil.

The record will state that I am an adventurous mom. I have hauled my kids and a 25 foot travel trailer from one end of North America to the other. On this particular trip, we decided to take in Seattle; the Manhattan of the west, I had heard it called. Setting up camp outside the metropolis a ways, I decided it was as good a time as any to introduce my younguns to public transportation. After examining the bus routes and schedule and arming myself with a backpack full of essentials for the day, we caught the bus for the 40 minute ride into the city center. The kids were enthralled.

“Look at the fast train, mommy.”

“I can see the Space Noodle.”

“Why are we going so fast?”

“How can we get off?”

And all the typical things curious children will ask in a new situation.

We arrived at the train station and caught a train the rest of the way to the “Space Noodle,” as the four year old dubbed it. This is now the official name of the 605 foot high structure according to my illustrious family. Not big city folk, we had a grand time taking in the sights and enjoying a well planned but very full day. If I had owned a step tracker at the time, I am sure it would have registered many miles for our tired feet.

Carrying the good natured 1 year old in my brightly tie-dyed sling carrier, we trooped back to the train station. After a quick train ride, I looked anxiously for the Kent bus. Finding the designated spot, we waited impatiently, each child's bus fare gripped tightly in their little fists. The bus arrived with a roar and then a loud whoosh, causing the children to cower, and cover their ears. "Watch what I do with my money," I reminded them for the eleventh time, stepping up into the bus. I deposited my money or rather I tried to, but the machine would not accept it. I looked at the driver in alarm and he shrugged, "free ride tonight." "Really?" I asked like a newbie. He smiled and pointed to the back of the bus indicating we should sit down and stop holding up the line. "Thank you." And then to the kids, "Come on then, put your money in your pockets. Let's find a seat."

“Why did I plan so much into one day?” I asked myself with a sigh as we settled quickly onto the long bench in the middle of the bus. There were two benches along the sides of the bus facing the center aisle. I sat with my arms around the exhausted youngest two with several packages gripped in front of me in both hands. We had barely situated ourselves when the bus lurched forward. As a short mama, my feet barely reached the floor and as the bus rocked rhythmically from side to side I found myself bracing the three of us with the toes of my worn Birkenstocks.

The 16 year old was directly across from me and the other two were having a grand time getting tossed back and forth as the seat in the accordion part of the articulated bus swiveled this way and that. Other than their stifled giggles and one obnoxiously loud occupant in the very back, the passengers were a quiet bunch.

The little ones had fallen asleep and as their heavy heads pressed into my shoulders on both sides, I sighed and smiled at my daughter across the aisle. Glancing out the window, the quickly darkening scenery whizzed by so fast. “We should have headed back earlier,” I commented, envisioning the very long 2 block walk in the dusk of an unfamiliar area with my sleepy babies.

The loud hum of the bus accentuated by my giggling girls and the unauthorized music of the back row passenger, prevented much conversation.

Without any warning, the bus suddenly descended a short hill and swung wildly around a corner. Before I had any time to think or do anything, I found myself and the two no-longer-sleeping children flat on the floor of the bus. As they whimpered, startled at such a rude awakening, I shook my head and looked at our packages strewn everywhere. My older kids all froze in horror helpless to do anything. I felt the humored eyes of the rest of the passengers as we added some spice to their normally boring commute, I’m sure. NO ONE offered to help us. I hefted the kids into my arms and stumbled back to the seat, glaring at my daughter for not somehow preventing this catastrophe. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to laugh or cry, but she did manage to grab the packages without herself splaying all over the floor. As I seethed in anger at the lack of decent humanity, I realized my shoes were also gone. Looking frantically around, I finally spotted them, the one had flown as far back as the articulated part of the bus. "Geez Louise." One of my kids did manage to gather my shoes and get them to me without further mishap and as I realized neither baby was hurt, just startled, I began to see the humor in the situation. Before we had even disembarked, I was exchanging horrified laughing glances with my kids, waiting for the opportunity to really belly laugh about this after we were all safely back at our little home away from home. A few of the other passengers caught our now humored mood and sent a kindly smile our way as well. I was no longer angry with these random strangers who really couldn't have done anything to help anyway.

The rest of the journey was uneventful, and we managed to get off at the correct stop and everyone was fully awake for the short walk. We got cleaned up and enjoyed a simple dinner, laughing heartily as each retold their version of the mishap.

The next day, I decided we would drive our own SUV on the day's planned adventures.