Gimme Shelter

They’ve recently begun a new construction project at the WFC Metro Station’s bus kiosks. Essentially they’re going to put a roof over the entire horseshoe-shaped sidewalk, but so far all they’ve done is erect the supports for the structure, which are big steel columns that rise about eight to ten feet and then have huge curving arches bolted on top, all of which are painted white, which creates an effect of walking through a giant rib cage on an avenue in the necropolis as I make my way down to the 980 stop each evening. I am solidly in favor of this project, because it is proceeding in a nondisruptive (if eerie) way and also because it just seems like a baseline decent thing to do, keeping people dry when it rains. Somehow, almost without my knowledge, I have become such a responsible adult that I carry an umbrella at all times, so I don’t need the new pavilion per se, but I understand that some days the rain comes as a surprise and some people don’t even own an umbrella to begin with, so, it’s nice. Right now the only way to get out of the rain is to duck into one of the tiny shelters at each bus stop, except that’s not really a viable option either.

Here’s the difference between the bus and the Metro trains: the bus system actually has a civilized queuing system. It’s hard for me to overstate how much I appreciate this about the bus-riding experience and how, by contrast, the Metro drives me just a little bit crazier. I guess the root of the issue is that when a bus arrives at the bus stop it opens one and only one door to let people on. And the bus always pulls up to the exact same section of curb and you can predict within inches where that door is going to align. This means that one person can stand at that one spot where the door will be and stake a claim to being the first person on the next bus. And therefore another person can stand right behind that person and be the second person on the next bus, and this chain of logic manifests as a very polite single-file line of people waiting for the bus. And once the bus arrives, and people board and the bus starts to fill up, it is a reasonable decision for some people to step slightly to the side; the first person who does this gets to be first on board the next bus, and the person behind him can choose to get on the crowded bus in front of him or get behind the new line leader for the next bus, and so on. There are days when the volume of riders is high and/or the buses are off-schedule, and thus the lines get long, but they remain orderly even as they snake back up the sidewalk toward the Metro station proper. You can accurately gauge how many buses will have to come and go before you get on one, based on your position in line. The only downside, as mentioned, is that if it’s raining you can’t wait in a shelter, because you have to stay in line (unless the line happens to pass by a shelter at the spot where you’re holding your place).

The Metro is more chaotic. Every car of every train has three doors, so that’s 18 to 24 points of entrance, none of which are easily discernable until the train actually arrives at the platform. People mill around up and down the platform, some recklessly close to the edge, some all the way back against the wall or sitting on the concrete benches. And some stations serve multiple lines of the system, so the person standing next to you may or may not be trying to get on the next train with you. There’s just a scrum to get on the trains when they do arrive, with a kill-or-be-killed undercurrent. I have seriously had days where I stand near the edge of the platform where I assume a door is going to materialize, and when it turns out that I have guessed correctly as a train is settling to a rest, another commuter will literally step around and in front of me to position themselves to get on before me when the doors open. As a result, when the cars are at their crush-iest capacity and a wise soul might opt to wait for the next train, there is no guarantee that just because you’ve been waiting a while you’ll be first on the next train. I’ve often thought that the Metro trains should be forced to always stop at the exact same spot (they’re actually starting to do this) and the platforms should have cordoned serpentine lines for each door to impose some semblance of order. If you are having trouble visualizing what I’m talking about or think such a system is unworkable, I will answer both by pointing out this is how the boarding of roller coasters is handled. So there.


But back to the buses. I’m actually excited about the new roofing project because even though I don’t need it, it will still make my life easier. As I’ve mentioned previously, I don’t mind waiting for the bus (or even waiting for the next bus while people who were behind me crowd on to stand in the aisle) because I can always read while I stand in line. Except on rainy days, when it sometimes becomes problematic to juggle an umbrella with one hand and a book with the other (especially if the book is a massive hardcover, for instance). When the roof eliminates the need for the umbrella, I’ll be able to read all kinds of books in all kinds of weather, which again I’ll acknowledge is a ridiculously small thing for a small span of time in any given day, but it matters to me. I’m further hoping that the entire sidewalk enclosure will have better lighting than the kiosks currently do, because those dark winter evenings can be tricky, too.

I was thinking about all this last night especially because I had just started reading a book of essays by David Foster Wallace that I found unreasonably hard to put down. It was the perfect antidote to the Tales of the Dying Earth slog I just finished – Wallace’s writing is hyperliterate and human and fascinating. Wallace is deeply enamored of footnotes (as am I) to the point where he will often put superscript symbols next to words in his numbered footnotes, referring to sub-footnotes below, and I happily follow him down every digressive trail, even as the font size gets smaller and smaller at each level, even as I’m standing in the dark and the rain under my compact umbrella, squinting to decipher words. If there’s a more hardcore definition of ‘geeking out’ I have to imagine it somehow involves re-enactment, wild animals, live ammunition and imaginary languages.