It is ironic that I now live on an island that has bus service once a week. Yes, it’s Thursday, so today’s the day. As if that weren’t pitiful enough, the county tries to do away with that lone bus every year. A couple years back, they even held a hearing on the subject. Several elderly ladies who were regular riders showed up to protest. They carried the day, but only just.
The irony comes in because I had recurring dreams for years that I was riding on a bus and couldn’t get off or didn’t know where my stop was. I knew enough about dream analysis to recognize this was a metaphor for my life. Back in Pittsburgh, a place urbanized enough to have public transit, I spent many an hour shivering waiting for a bus and many an hour jammed into a seriously overcrowded bus when it finally arrived.
I don’t know which I am more grateful for, the fact that the bus dreams ceased or the fact that I no longer have to take a bus even once a week.