The Story Behind The Name

Some writers are inspired by events in their lives, others by the state of the world, some are prolific, and I, a writer inspired by words.

If you have been writing for a long time you become a accustom to your process, so when “Courtesy Seat” came to me via “Translink BC” no one was taken for more of a ride then me, (pun intended).

To start, I am not that girl you know, the one who nervously races through the dozens of transfers caught in her pocket, searching for the one embossed with today’s date, no, before the beginning of this month I was an ozone polluting, music cranking, leave ten minutes before work driving bus snob. Today in fact, as I dug around for $2.25 in change, I chuckled to myself, recalling last semester’s petition to add Langara College to the list of schools that receive discounted bus passes. You can imagine the position I took at the time…..and the one I’m in now!

Probably the first thing I noticed that very first bus ride was the Courtesy Seats for “persons disabled and the elderly”. Beautiful I thought, what a….well, courteous gesture!

I am a sap, I hide it well behind a mask of cynicism and humor but alas, indulging in a moment of honesty here, I will admit, I tear up when vehicles pull aside to aid the screaming ambulances speeding off to people in need. I have this same reaction when people jump up in a show of respect to people more in need of a seat. Albeit in both scenarios it is actually required that they react in such a manner but I try not to let that skew the moment.

I left my first bus ride with a smile on my face, a lovely first impression of our pubic transit system and the public at large. It became my thing, ride the bus and observe the people in the courtesy seats. It always makes me a little uncomfortable when young people sit there in the front seats but as long as there is no one more in need I keep my opinions to myself, though you can always find me keeping a watchful eye for peoples disabled and elderly getting on. I have no issue making it known that people will be removing themselves from those seats should someone in need join our commute. I have become a bit of a courtesy seat “policer”; you’d be appalled at how busy my self appointed job keeps me.

Beyond the fact that I love the idea behind the courtesy seating and watching the typically good natured commuters jump at the chance to offer their comfort up for someone else, I am simply fascinated by who sits in those seats. I am talking about the people who deem themselves qualified as disabled and elderly. So many amazing human dynamics take place in the simplicity.

Sometimes an 85 year old woman gripping her cane will bypass those seats to join the leagues of able bodied riders standing closer to the back and then a 65 year old woman will hop on the bus and sit quite righteously in the front seats. This says to me a lot about how these two women view themselves and leaves me to wonder how much of how we perceive ourselves affects our abilities that an 85 year old woman using a cane can hold her own on a stop and go bus ride whereas another woman 20 years younger is unable. Food for thought.

The Germ Exchange

Riding the bus you become a retailer and a consumer of all things infectious. I never understood how it came about that so many people had colds and flues so much of the time; I felt misfortuned should I experience a sniffle more than annually. Now, a professional bus rider/courtesy seat policer, I am constantly at odds with my general health.

Every time you get on a bus there is what I refer to as, “the bartering process”.

“I see your lung infection and I raise you influenza. No? Ok, ok…influenza AND the remnants of fecal matter left on my hands from not washing properly,…I thought so….deal!”

After the bartering process has been completed there is, “the exchange”. This happens when the bus driver, going 60kph realizes he is about to miss the next stop and makes a quick move for the breaks. You both lose your grip on the pole that is helping you keep your balance and fly forward. After peeling yourself off the smelly backpack of the person in front of you to re-grip, you simply trade places on the pole, which is still holding your foggy palm prints on its shiny metal. You both nod, acknowledging the exchange, and then one of you pulls the, “stop request” string hung like garland across both sides of the bus. This my friends concludes the germ exchange.

Invading The Body Bubble

There you are, in your bus seat built for two, alone, vulnerable. You look around, everyone has taken to sitting as far from one another as possible, you understand and respect this, if there is enough seating for everyone to enjoy their personal space, why wouldn’t we all take advantage of this rare occasion?

If someone was to sit beside you when there are other less invasive options for them you would wonder about them, maybe look at them in annoyance and turn up your Ipod, they are probably a talker. Nobody likes a talker, well nobody except another talker.

To draw a parallel, when you go into a public bathroom with long rows of individual stalls do you take the empty stall right next to the only other occupied stall? No, you do not. You move about 4 down (all relative to how many stalls are available of course) and you do your thing. Nothing is more uncomfortable or annoying then when you are trying to have a peaceful pee and someone comes in the empty, quiet bathroom and takes the stall right next to you, this is awkward for everyone and causes pee shyness.

I find this is similar, minus pee shyness, to the dynamics of choosing your seat.

The Mini People's Choice Awards

It has been established in, “Invading the body bubble” when we do not welcome people to sit with us in our rather cramped quarters but on a nearly full bus everything previously mentioned goes out the window. That’s right, when there are two or three seats left on a bus and another person joins the commute they must choose a seat. They look around at their options, consider factors important to them when choosing their seat mate, could be based on anything from good looks to who is least likely to start having a conversation with themselves. All of us, in our half empty seats, watch them in anticipation, will this person choose me? Will they choose the lady in the big hat wearing too much perfume? If they choose her over me I am going to be very insulted, they had better choose me! Ohhh they chose the oblivious boy near the door, was it something I did? The lady in the big hat and I will look at one another as if to validate that we did our best, it was probably just about being close to an exit….right?

Riding the bus can be a cruel popularity contest, that is, until you win! That’s right, there is another stop but minutes ahead, another opportunity to be chosen and I’ll do better next time.