Bus v. BART.

I’ve decided that AC Transit transbay buses are the hidden gems of public transportation. BART gets all the credit, with its convenience, its reliability, its ability to avoid traffic. But really, have you ever taken BART into the city during commute hours? I suppose going from one place in the city to another is tolerable. But every time I board in the east bay, it’s like walking into sardine can of a sauna: working professionals packed tightly into train cars with unreliable air circulation. Since I never have a seat and am forced to stand, I have to worry about my handbag (or two) not getting in others’ faces or not hitting the sides of their chest, waist, legs, etc. I have to furiously hold on to the bar overhead, sometimes with two hands (yes, bags likely bombarding those around me), and still often topple into several people standing within a six-inch radius of me. Wearing heels only makes the commute worse, because now I have to worry about increased imbalance, and not hitting my head on the aforementioned overhead bar. Alas, instead of using the half-hour to soothingly enjoy my podcasts or book-on-CD (or perhaps I should call it my book-on-iPod-I-cleverly-rented-from-the-library-&-uploaded-to-my-computer), I arrive at the Embarcadero flustered, sweaty, uncaffeinated and annoyed enough to write about my experience.

That’s why I rarely take BART, unless I have to. Also because within a pleasant five-minute walk are two transbay “express” buses which get me into the city in the exact same amount of time. (Yes, I have time-trial tested it.) When I first started taking the C line, I had the same bus driver every morning. I’d board, exchange pleasant “good mornings,” sit down, throw on my iPod, and enjoy the usually uneventful commute into downtown. After I became a “regular” on the line, pleasant “good morning” exchanges with the driver turned into occasional compliments. The day our driver announced he was changing lines, he pulled over and presented us with fresh quiche! to eat during the remainder of the commute — unheard of, especially since eating on the bus is technically prohibited. Alas, I arrive in the city refreshed, occasionally well-napped, and well-versed in the latest Grammar Girl (podcast) tips.