Thursday, March 31, 2011


People have teased me about going to the temple on my wedding day on the bus. People have teased me about leaving my wedding reception on the bus.
People have teased me about embarking on my honeymoon on the bus.

I did none of those things on my wedding day. But you better believe my bachelor party started on the bus.

Don't worry, we didn't do anything too shenaniganical on the bus. We saved that for later. We just got on, is all.

Everyone, when they got on, said things like, "This bus is nice!" probably because the last time they rode the bus, it was in South America. I told them we were on one of the oldest buses left in the fleet, and they were intrigued.

We rode the 831 all the way to Wal-Mart, which gave me the opportunity to ask at several points, "Does anyone know where we are?" to which the answer was usually "I have no idea!" although one of them did say once, "I know where we are . . . I drove past here once . . ."

We walked from Wal-Mart to IHOP, which caused the same dude to express his wish that we had driven instead, because it was too far to walk. We all judged him silently, I think. At least, I did.

We ate at IHOP, then bought snacks and associated things at Wal-Mart. We caught the 830 back. The 831 had been empty, but the 830 was unusually full, probably because the price of gas is skyrocketing again . . . this was good PR for my friends; it's good for people to see a bus with actual people on it, unlike the 831 on a Friday night.

All in all, it was a good experience for everyone. The guy I've already mentioned twice said he might even start taking the bus to UVU over the summer if the price of gas keeps going up. I support that.

We got home, and then we partied it up, Mormon style, for the rest of the evening, until I was pooped (Yeah, I was the first one to tire out. As usual). It was great.


Wednesday, March 30, 2011


The other day on the 850, as I was embarking on my journey to school, a woman got on the bus who paid with cash. There's nothing inherently unusual about this.

However, this woman could not have paid with any coin worth more than a nickel. It was quite a sight, and a sound, all that change going in. And it took a while!

By the time she fetched her transfer and turned around, I and a few other people on the bus were looking at her with a sort of awe. She raised her eyebrows whimsically and took her seat. I think she's the spare change fairy.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011


The other day, I caught the 830. (Hooray!)

There was construction at my usual stop, so I walked to the next one, which was only a block away. Per my usual custom, I was a little early. A woman walked out of one of the apartment buildings across from the bus stop, saw me standing there, did an obvious double take, and walked up to the stop without looking at me. She gave me a curt nod when she got to the stop, then proceeded to stand well away from me and not look at me until the bus came. Oh well. I got on first.

I know for certain I brushed my teeth that morning! I can only conclude that this bus stop actually belonged to her, and that I was unknowingly impinging on it. Sorry, ma'am. It'll never happen again.

Monday, March 28, 2011



Tonight I got off the 831 at a bus stop also serviced by the 830 (That actually narrows it down quite a bit, if you're up on such things). There's nothing inherently unusual about that.

As I walked away from the bus stop, I saw a man rapidly approaching it. I heard his brain thinking, even from a ways off, Was that the 830? Was that the 830?

Sure enough, as we passed, he said to me, a trifle desperate, "Was that the 830?"

I said, "That was the 831."

He said, "Oh, sweet!" Which didn't help.

As I kept walking, I thought, How could he think that was the 830? It was a '99 bus. The 831 is always a '99 bus, and the 830 is almost always an '09 or a '10 bus. And anyway, it's not time for the 830 to come yet. Why is he so worried? Honestly!

Then I realized that he probably doesn't know all that stuff. I felt weird.

Saturday, March 26, 2011


(before 3/12/2011)

It was another long day, followed by a long bus ride home from commutergirl's apartment. Everything was cool, until on the 830 a couple got on the bus and decided to sit right in front of me.

And kiss each other approximately nine times per minute, all the way home.

Yes, I started counting, because at least it gave me a solid basis for resenting them.

Even that was mostly bearable, until, just south of BYU, they started getting tongue involved. Then a small part of me died inside. It's all I can do not to throw up on the keyboard right now.

Children, does it occur to you that if you keep kissing at this frenetic rate, you will be tired of each other by next week? Maybe your relationships would last longer if you didn't tongue on the bus. Just sayin'.

Monday, March 21, 2011


So, for like two weeks before I got married, people kept asking me, "Are you going to take the bus to the temple next Saturday?" or some similar question. I gave the first few people decent explanations, but after I while, I reduced it down to something like, "No, the F868 doesn't run on Saturday. Duh." That was much easier to say.

Friday, March 18, 2011


So, I haven't blogged in a little while. You'll excuse me. Getting married is time-consuming, apparently.

The day before I got married, which was a Friday, since I got married on a Saturday, I was waiting for the bus to leave BYU campus.

Typically, when you wait for the bus at BYU campus, the 832 comes first. A million screaming freshmen get on it. The rest of the people at the bus stop heave a sigh of relief. Then the 831 comes. Then the 830 comes. Then, sometimes, the 833 comes, but nobody rides the 833, anyway, so it doesn't matter.

On this Friday, as usual, I was waiting for the bus. When the first bus came around the corner, it was clear from the make of the bus that the 831 had beat the 832 and would be here first. I always enjoy when this happens, because it disgruntles all the people who were waiting for the 832. Some of them even start getting on the bus, then realize it's not the one they usually ride, and get off in shame. My cynical side enjoys this.

On this Friday, however, I had just been thinking about how this was the last time I was going to ride the 831 home from school; in fact, I wasn't going to be riding the 831 very much at all anymore. I don't, most of the time, like the bus to the point of being nostalgic about it, but it was noteworthy to me that instead of riding the 831 several times a day, I might now only ride it a couple of times a month. That's a big change, if you're me.

So, when the 831 came up the hill first that day, I couldn't help thinking it was sending me kind regards and a fond farewell. Thanks, 831!

Tuesday, March 8, 2011


Dear stupid Provo pedestrian:

It's dark. We can barely see you. But surely you can see the bus with the green lit up sign on the front. Surely you could see that the bus was stopping for you. So that you could cross. 'Cause we're nice like that.

Why did you wait ten seconds to cross? It's 10:40 p.m. Surely you want to go home as much as we do. But neither of us can go home until you cross that stupid street. Next time a bus stops at an intersection so that you can cross, you really need to get the hint faster.



Sunday, March 6, 2011


Dear stupid Provo pedestrian:

I don't condone walking and texting. Just for the record.

But I'd rather have you walking and texting than


Seriously, dude, you need to reexamine your life. Before you're responsible for theirs.


Friday, March 4, 2011


Dear stupid Provo pedestrian:

There's a magical thing about the crosswalks at BYU. They change without your having to do anything. Ooooh . . .

It seems to be lost on you, however. Why did you start crossing the street just seconds before the crosswalk was going to change anyway? Why, when you started crossing the street, did you not look to your left and see that a car was coming down the street, trying to get through the intersection before the light went from yellow to red? Why did you almost get hit by this car?

I assume, based on the fact that you were carrying important-looking documents into a department office in the building we both subsequently entered, that you are an educated person. Maybe you can answer those questions for me.


Thursday, March 3, 2011



So, today I was running to catch the bus at my typical stop. Nothing unusual, people, just keep walking . . .

But as I was making my way to the stop, I heard someone chanting. It took me a second to realize it was about me.



It just so happened that one of my friends happened to be stopped at the light where I was crossing.

I felt like, since he was chanting for me, I should somehow reciprocate. I did something we'll call the "ninja dance." Don't ask. Then I made a big show of dramatically running over to the bus stop. Then I got there, stopped, and put on my thoughtful face again.

It really WAS cool to hear someone chanting my name, though.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011


I hate you.

You go to the Municipal Council meetings and you talk about how Joaquin was such a nice place until all the students moved in. You say that neighborhoods shouldn't have to be parking lots. You quote irrelevant figures to the Council, but the bitterness in your voice makes your purpose painfully obvious.

We have already shut you down twice. And you keep coming back.


You want us to walk to school? We already do. You want us to take public transportation? We will if you will. Did you know that Joaquin is serviced by the 820, 822, 830, 831, and 833? No, of course you didn't, because YOU DON'T USE THE BUS. What makes you think we will? I promise, we're busier than you. What time do you get home at night? Is it 10:00 p.m.? 11:00 p.m.? If not, I had longer days as a sophomore in college than you do now, as a hopefully gainfully employed member of society.

You want the cars off your streets? Fine. Tell me where you want to put them. In someone else's front yard? There isn't anywhere else. Sure, we might be able to walk to school, but what about to the grocery store? Have you ever gotten on the bus with both arms full of grocery bags? I have. And while I admit that I am much better built than you, it's still not fun. What about to cultural events and service opportunities that don't happen to be within a mile radius of where we live? What about work in another town? Do you walk to these places? Why are you special?

You think we don't pay taxes here? We do. UTA runs off my sales tax just like yours. There wouldn't be enough sales tax in Provo to run buses at all if BYU weren't here. Without BYU, Provo would be Spanish Fork, except that there would be more to do in Spanish Fork. Do you know how many restaurants basically hibernate during Christmas Break here? Why do you think that is? Get back to me on that one when you figure it out, several years from now.

Joaquin was a nice place before, huh? Well, what has Provo done, what have you done, to keep it nice? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I can't run on the sidewalk here because none of the trees are pruned and the sidewalks are completely uneven. When it rains, sidewalks and street corners become lakes and ponds. How much upkeep is done on the homes in this neighborhood? None. Only when something absolutely breaks does it even minimally get addressed. I know. I've lived here for four years.

What keeps all these old dumpy houses and apartments from becoming crackhouses? Mormon BYU students who don't sell meth out of their basements. They don't drink. Most of them don't even cuss. And you have no idea how lucky you are to live in a college town where drunken parties don't happen across the street from you every weekend. Show some gratitude, instead of hating us for parking our cars.

BYU, and its students, and their cars, are here to stay. We're sorry our existence bothers you, but we're not going to go kill ourselves so that we can stop annoying you. Grow up. One of the things you should have learned when you were about my age is that we don't get to have everything exactly the way we want it. You don't like living in a neighborhood with thousands of students in it? Don't live five blocks from a university. Duh.

I am moving to Orem next week. If I ever move back to Provo, it will be after you and Cindy Richards are dead.