2/7A Coach 4117. Bad dynamic breaking circuit. Cut in and out at random.
2/8VT coach 4125. (Divide this by 1000 and you get 4-1/8. G.W. Bush's hat size!)
This afternoon we had:
1. A traffic jam on Seneca St due to emergency override of traffic signals on 5 Ave.
2. Some sort of police activity at 3/Pike. Had to stop short in the zone and watch the buses pile up behind me. And the the wheelchair came. (The mileage on the coach at this point was [I do not make this up] 6666.6) Actually, it wasn't a wheelchair, it was one of those scooters. I dislike those, as it takes a lot of backing and filling to get it onto the bus. I also think it also represents some sort of personal denial thing on the part of the owner, but I won't go there...
3. A zillion random people.
Got to the #2 terminal in Queen Anne. People were walking up to the terminal as I arrived. I hate this. They go into this living dead mode and start scratching at the bus wanting on to kill and eat you. Of course I had to go to the bathroom. I can't open the door lest the living dead swarm on, so I bleed the air from the doors and squeeze through. The living dead are fooled and don't rush the bus. One speaks, though: "How long until your trip?".
What I want to say is "The bus leaves when it leaves, there's a schedule posted on the pole and you NEED TO BUY A FUCKING WATCH!" But no. You can't talk to the living dead that way in the city that gave us Nordstrom service. I mutter "five minutes" then head for the bathroom where I then proceeded to kick shit out of some helpless minor bathroom fixtures.