You get a cool (useful!) thank-you gift at an event, and you seriously consider not accepting it, because you’ve already exceeded your stuff-carrying capacity, and it’s too much trouble to schlep it home.
And when you ask her what kind of meeting the mommy pig is going to, she says, “A transit task force.”
You have a date with your husband at a holiday party in Bellevue, one which requires a fancy dress and high, high heels, and even though the temperature is below freezing and it’s expected to snow, you pass on Zipcar or calling a cab in favor of the warm, weather-ready 550.
You know you’re too much of a bus chick if…
After the party, when the temperature has dropped and the snow has begun in earnest, and you’re in a hurry to make it to your warm house to kiss your little chicklet, you are stuck waiting downtown on sore feet (for the 4, no less) for 15+ minutes.
Some updates to the original list:
• You have “stop sense”: On your regular routes, you know when to pull the bell to get off, even if foggy windows, darkness, or distance from the window prevent you from seeing outside. And speaking of bells…
• When riding in a car, you reflexively reach for an imaginary bell when you begin to near your destination.
Earlier today, our bus fam headed over to Volunteer Park to raise our voices in support of other families’ rights. (We were not down with the three-bus trip–48 + 43 + 10–to a park two miles from our house and so took the 48 north and made the rest of the trip on foot.) At the rally, we saw many folks who had been on the 48 with us and recognized many of our favorite bus regulars. (You know you’re a bus chick if…, item #21: “When you’re at a big gathering [sporting event, festival, concert, fair] you see several people you remember from the bus.”)
For Chicklet-related reasons, we left the festivities early. We weren’t the only ones.
• You carry an all-purpose bag with you everywhere you go.
• Aside from your bus pass, your wallet contains at least two of the following items:
o Library card.
o Co-op membership card.
o Car-sharing membership card.
o The phone number of someone who recently chatted you up at a stop.
• You consider any distance under a mile to be “a short walk.”
• You’ve memorized Metro’s rider information number and/or web address, and at least one bus schedule.
• You’ve memorized the locations of public (or not-so-public) restrooms on your regular routes.
• You keep a running list of items you need, so you can be ready the next time you’re walking by (or waiting near) a store that carries one of them.
• You use at least one delivery service.
• You know without looking at the sign whether the bus you’re boarding is “pay as you leave” or “pay as you enter”.
• You have at least one bus friend.
• You have a favorite seat.
• Assuming you’re able-bodied, you can stand without holding on and walk while the bus is moving.
• You know exactly how long it takes a particular route to get from the time point on the schedule to your stop.
• You know exactly how often (and in what sequence) the signal lights change at crucial stops.
• You know exactly how long it takes you to walk three blocks.
• You sometimes leave a social event (lunch with friends or a party) in a rush, before you’ve had the chance to say a proper goodbye.
• You’ve been encouraged by well-meaning family members and friends to grow up, get over it, and buy a car already.
• You have at least one device or gadget that makes riding more convenient (some examples: a cell phone with a data plan for checking schedules, etc. on the go; a GPS unit; a PDA with city maps).
• When you’re at a big gathering (sporting event, festival, concert, fair) you see several people you remember from the bus.
• You pay very close attention to weather reports.
• You are an expert at fending off unwanted advances.
• You always know what time it is.
I realize all of these won’t be true for all bus chicks–I own no ride improving-gadgets for example (though Bus Nerd certainly owns his share)–but if you recognize yourself in half or more of these, odds are good that you’ve got a few (hundred?) rides under your (practical-yet-fashionable) belt.