Welcome to My Bus Life

Bus stop at York & Park - Hamilton, Ontario. Photo by me

To start this off I should inform you that I am indeed a Burlingtonian...Born and raised in Burlington, Ontario. Everything posted in this blog will be from the biased opinion of a sheltered suburban girl, so try not to judge me too harshly. This is my world view.

To begin, let me tell you the story of me and the bus...

When I was a little girl I lived closed to my school. My brother and I were taught how to get to and from school on foot. We sometimes walked with our neighbourhood friends, or would catch a ride if possible. But I was not a bus kid.

The kids that took the school bus would line up behind paper signs with their bus number written on them. I would simply grab my backpack and walk, or ride my bike home. School buses were simply for class trips to science museums, or pioneer villages - not for day-to-day travel.

My parent's both drive, so taking us places was always easy. Even as we grew more independent, we could always rely on a ride from mom or dad to the mall, or to a friend's house. It was never even suggested that we take the city bus. The only time I ever took the city bus was with my grandma - who would occasionally take us to the mall. But even then, I didn't have to think about where we were going and when to pull the stop request cord thing - she would do all that.

When I was 19 and started university in Toronto, I had to learn to take the TTC bus myself. Lucky for me there were some off-campus trips offered to first year students the week before classes started. I learned how to take the bus to the subway stop in order to get downtown. I fancied myself quite the city-girl by the time I moved back to the suburbs when I graduated, four years later. But alas, my new-found bus taking skills were rendered useless, as I ended up working locally, within walking distance...until recently.

I took a job in September in Hamilton....Steeltown...The Hammer...the place everyone loves to hate. Not wanting to buy a car or move there led me to conclude that the only way for me to get to work was to bus it. We're so lucky these days with technology that can tell us how to get places. With Google's guidance, and some co-worker's help, I navigated the parts of the city I needed to get to with ease.

Taking the city buses has exposed me to the bones and guts and innards of Hamilton. The Plains Road Express bus takes me out of my protective bubble, and drops me seconds away from a men's homeless shelter. The Bayfront bus takes me through a gentrified artist's community to the dying industrial wasteland. On the way home though is where I experience the full spectrum of the human experience.  The Barton Bus. The bus that can be as tame as a lamb or a wild, and as unpredictable as a hobo with a bag of cans. This is the heart of Hamilton. This bus drops me across from Jackson Square, where the homeless kids with mohawks hold their paper signs. Then I walk to the bus stop where the sidewalk is peppered with cigarette butts, pigeon feces, spit, and discarded Tim Horton's cups. I can't help but stare as the drama unfolds. Then my bus comes and takes me home.

This blog is for my friends and co-workers who kept saying, "you should turn your bus stories into a blog." I will try my best to share my tales of the kooky cast of characters I cross paths with during my morning and evening commutes.

Enjoy!