It was my first day riding the bus to work. I was giving it a try for the annual May in Motion initiative. It shouldn’t have been the cause of so much anxiety. After all, this wasn’t a completely foreign experience. I mean, I’d ridden the bus a great deal as a kid. I’d take the bus with friends to the mall or to the beach, and, later, to work until I was old enough drive…and had something to drive. Still, I was very uneasy about this renewed bus-riding experience. After all, things have changed. Most notably… change has changed!
Would I need exact change? Would I have to have a special card?  If the previous stop picks up at 7:30, should I be at my stop before then? If I miss the bus, I’ll have to walk back home because the bus only has 3 runs in the morning by my house. Now I was experiencing May in Emotion.
So, in the same way that one researches for a major term paper, I tackled how to ride the bus. Now it was May In-vestigation. I learned that I could buy a pass at the grocery store and save a few bucks in the process. I also memorized all the stops on my route, bookmarked the schedule on my mobile phone, and took a walk one day to make sure I knew exactly where the bus would pick me up.
On my first morning, I was up and at ‘em early. Too early. Like the first day of school, I was ready to go before it was time to go. I puttered around the house and checked for my bus pass five times, until I decided it was time to go. I told myself I would leisurely stroll to the bus stop. Of course, I walked twice as fast and was at the stop 15 minutes early. We call this May in Anticipation.
For 15 minutes, I paced back and forth in the chilly morning air while racking up some steps for my Fitbit. Luckily, no one lives in the houses by the stop yet. This means I looked less like a crook casing the joint, and more like I was just lost… in my own neighborhood. Finally, the bus came. I greeted the driver, put my pass in the machine as I had seen demonstrated in the videos, and waited. There was a grumble from the driver. I turn to him expectantly. He then asked clearly – perhaps slowly as if speaking to the clueless, “What do you need?”
Need? What does he mean, what do I need? I need a ride!  I panic. My words stumble out in a rush like I’m defending my actions – or inactions.  “It’s a pass!” I blurt. “It has a 24 dollar value!”
The driver sort of sighs and looks a little sorry for me. Then, smiling kindly, gently, as if he understands that it is hard to ride the bus, he suggests, “One way? All day pass?” Oh. I didn’t remember that from the instruction videos. So I mumble, “one way.”
When it comes to new situations, I can be a little like a new puppy with too-long legs it can’t control – a little spastic and unsteady, but I eventually get it together. It’s not unheard of for a kind stranger to take care of me in such situations. I figure this nice driver was just helping me through my awkward puppy phase. Pity In Motion.
I spend the first part of my bus ride mentally rehearsing for the afternoon ride home. I tell myself: Step on bus; say hello; put card in; say “one way;” take card; sit down.  Do it again: Step on bus; say hello; put card in…
It was an uneventful ride until we were nearly at my stop. That’s when I realized it – no one had left the bus yet! My anxiety was instant. Has getting OFF the bus changed since I was a teen? Do I pull the cord? How much notice does he want? As I internally panicked trying to decide the exact, most perfect moment to pull the cord, someone else got to it first. *whew* Saved.
In the coming weeks, I hope to try taking my bike on the bus. I’ve watched the videos, but this is big. Huge! What if I take too long? What if I can’t get the bike rack to unfold? What if my bike falls off and I am the cause of a major traffic event?
Anxiety in Motion.