Ad Nauseum

Never a slouch when it comes to improving commuter comforts, COTA now offers blaring ADS over its bus speakers, which make perfect mini-alarms for those dozy moments along the way home.

The ads range from PSAs to educate about crib-death prevention, credit-recovery programs for high school dropouts, and fly-by-night "universities" to customized t-shirts (by the Mamas and Papas, no less!--slogan: It's not the shirt but what's ON the shirt!) and help-wanted ads for seasonal jobs at the ring of mega-warehouses that have sprung up on the southeast and far east sides of town.

Personally, I detest the intrusion as an unneeded addition to the ever-deafening din of urban life. I was first introduced to ads on public transit in 2013 as a regular rider of Dayton's Metropolitan Transit Authority bus system, where ads bleating over bus loudspeakers are common.

Particularly annoying was the Budweiser ad that chimed the five o'clock hour, substituting the bells of a church steeple with the sound of a can lustily being opened and the resultant fizzing as the beverage was poured, presumably in a chilled beer mug: It's five o'clock! Time for a nice cold can of America's best glug, glug, glug...."

At this writing, no Budweiser ads can be heard on COTA. But I bet they're not far away.

Sharpie Artists for Christ

One might not expect to see displays of religious symbols and, at times, even actual worship on the city's bus lines.

When I routinely rode the early-morning, downtown-bound No. 2, a common wake-up call came from a young woman who began her mornings blasting the gospel station through her headphones and babbling in tongues for all to hear. It is not uncommon to find young, white-shirted, skinny-tied, and yes, shirt-pocket pencil-holder accessorized men of the Mormon faith on the bus sharing their Good News to anyone who will listen (I will credit them with leaving you alone if you express that desire). Various religious tracts can be found among the garbage strewn over the bus floor: pamphlets giving instruction on how to be "saved," discarded Watchtower magazines and other Jehovah's Witnesses brochures, and occasionally, a luridly drawn, graphic parable from Chick Publications (a lucky find for me; I collect them).

Anecdotally, among that ever-diminishing of commuters who read ACTUAL BOOKS, magazines or newspapers as they ride, I'd say from my observations The Bible is the No. 1 go-to tome, followed closely by books by Joel Osteen, Deepak Chopra, and like that....

Personally, I will read Buddhist-related books on the bus, recite the 37 Practices of the Bodhisattva quietly under my breath, chant mantras, also quietly, under my breath, and meditate as we roll through the city. Especially on days I expect might be stressful.

I have no problem with any of this really--well, the speaking in tongues I could do without unless performed by the Talking Heads--as long as it doesn't disturb other passengers. However, I DO have a problem with a religiously obsessed zealots of any faith using display spaces on public transit to push their particular brand of superstition.

By that, I mean these:



These crudely drawn, Sharpie-scrawled Christian exhortations began appearing on buses a couple of years ago. I've seen about five different ones in all, but I have never seen the culprit. I rode the Livingston Avenue No. 1 bus quite a bit last spring, and would sometimes see larger versions of these posted on utility poles around Alum Creek Drive and the Driving Park neighborhood.

I suspect the artist is the elderly man who sometimes can be seen on crack-of-dawn missions ambling about at the corner of Hamilton Road and East Main Street, wildly waving a large, sloppily lettered poster that commands drivers to "honk for Jesus."

A few months ago, a friend of mine who regularly rides the No. 2 DID spot the divinely inspired Sharpie Artist slipping his latest creation into the Plexiglass. My friend, who like me is a fervent supporter of the freedom of religion as well as freedom FROM religion, chided the guy, informing him that religious displays are not legal on a public conveyance. The man didn't say anything, but put the poster back in his bag.

While some readers might think my friend's reaction harsh--and hard-core believers would accuse him of religious persecution--I agreed with his action. In a time when the constitutionally built wall separating church and state is being breached daily by extremist Christians taking control of our government and institutions, it is inherent that we defend those rights on all fronts, including the rolling stock of COTA.

After all, the dystopia portrayed in The Handmaid's Tale may be closer than we might want to believe.

Under His eye....

COTA Continues to Help Suffocate Life on Earth With Plastic

These pictures tell the story: COTA continues to dispense daily, as an alleged "public convenience," hundreds of plastic shopping bags emblazoned with the COTA logo and motto that passengers use as seat covers. Selfish, lazy riders leave their "seat covers" on the seats, where they remain (no one wants to touch a bag that someone's ass was splayed upon) until the large sheets of plastic inevitably find their way to the bus floor, and eventually are kicked out the door by embarking riders.

These bags are increasingly becoming a familiar and unwelcome part of the city's litterscape.

COTA needs to stop this wasteful, life-killing practice.

Now.

Stop the Bus, I Want to Get Off!

I am furious. Thanks, COTA.

It seems ever since the massive overhaul of the bus route and schedule system occurred back in May, the authority has yet to get its shit together.

More on that later, but this episode today seems typical:

I was scheduled to attend a training session on the East Side near Easton this afternoon. I had signed up for it a month ago, after getting special permission to participate, and after not being able to attend a previous session in August. Well, I'll be signing up for the next session in October because it turns out I wouldn't have made it to the session today on time, and latecomers were not to be permitted past the 4:30 cut-off time.

I left the apartment just after 3, intending to take the No. 2 Eastbound to Downtown, which was scheduled to be at my stop at 3:09. I waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, about 3:20, a bus pulls up, its tardiness prevented me from making a connection downtown at 3:26 that would have had me not only on time but 20 minutes early. I still had a chance to make it though, so I continued onward.

After crawling through downtown at a snail's pace, finally got to North High and Gay streets, where I was told the No. 9 to Brentnell and Easton could be boarded. I boarded a No. 9, which indicated it was going to Brentnell, only to find that it was actually going to West Mound Street--the opposite way I wanted to go. The driver let me off at East Mound and South High streets, and the other 9 stop was just a block away near the Southern Theater. I briskly walked over only to see a few buses stop and move on--including the 9 I needed! Next bus not until 4:18, which would have made me at least 20 minutes late.

As I stood on East Main Street and fumed, I also attempted to send an email to my colleague in charge of the training to explain my dilemma. But that, too, was a wash: I activated a new phone over the weekend, and have yet to successfully send messages or retrieve phone mail. And as I composed the auto-word function somehow got turned on, which was driving me nuts, and I couldn't turn it off, and I said fuck it and decided to wait until I got home to tell him the bad news.

As soon as I stepped off the bus, the alarm for a car parked right in the front of the bus went off inexplicably as they are wont to do, deafening me with its annoying whine, and capping yet another unpleasant COTA experience.

I've had it with tech and buses today, to be sure!

I'll Tumble 4 Ya, COTA!

(This post appeared in a slightly different form on Facebook, Sept. 17, 2016).

Almost one month later, it stills hurts to breathe too hard, sneeze, or turn the "wrong" way. I was seriously damaged a few weeks ago while running to catch the bus. While I don't blame the authority for the mishap (well, maybe just a little...), it is COTA-related!

Running to the bus while trying to zip up a left-open backpack compartment is not a good idea. Just ask me.

Leaving Kroger on North Broadway in Clintonville, clutching a bag of groceries, I notice the bus is coming and I'll have to run to catch it. As I run, it becomes immediately apparent that one of my backpack compartments--the big one--is unzipped and flapping in the breeze. I twist out of the straps so I can zip it up, running all the while.

Suddenly, my foot catches in an uneven portion of a North High Street sidewalk (there are many), and I catapult through the air, slamming back to earth on my left knee (already bruised from a mishap just a week ago), on my left rib cage, and on the palms of my hands. The bag, which I was holding in front of me as I tried to zip it, probably cushioned my fall and prevented my skull from cracking on the sidewalk.

Still, the tumble packed quite a wallop that left me totally breathless and seeing zooming stars. I was probably out for about 15 seconds. I started writhing on the ground in pain, gasping for breath. It knocked the freakin' wind out of me.

Several people, including a man who jumped out of his car at the intersection of North High and North Broadway (one of the city's absolute worst crossroads), came to my aid. It took me a good 10 minutes to pull it together, and they stayed with me until I was back on my feet, my scattered groceries were gathered, and I was safely at the bus stop.

My knee is pretty banged up (for the second time in a week), and I'm pretty sure I have bruised ribs, maybe worse (sneezing a moment ago was excruciating, every sudden move of my trunk agonizing), but I am grateful for the passing strangers who showed me kindness, caring and compassion.

Postscript, Oct. 13, 2016:

I'm real fortunate, even though I'm still a little sore. I could have had more serious injuries, or even been hit by a car or bus. I am truly thankful for the handful of spirits who rushed to my aid. Their actions gave my faith in humanity a small boost.

The bus was at the stop when I fell, and to his credit, the driver waited for a couple of minutes and when it was clear I was going to be sprawled on the sidewalk for at least 10 minutes (which I was), he slowly drove away. I didn't blame him; he had a schedule to keep.

DIY, COTA STYLE!

I know, some of the posts I've put up this time have year-old photos. For two reasons: I don't like to waste a good shot, and because COTA is timeless so the photos are always apropos and on point. COTA is timeless because CONDITIONS RARELY CHANGE. So the unsuspecting Columbus commuter might well expect to stumble upon similar scenes and conditions during their own riding careers. Truth never gets old.

Well, here's another blast from the recent past, from December 2015, and it involves COTA's horrible habit of keeping riders ill- or totally uninformed about service changes. One that chilly Sunday morn, I was waiting for the bus at my local Near East Side stop when I watched this scene unfold.
The barricades went up and the sign was posted. How the hell was I to get downtown? While minutes earlier, I warmly anticipated the possibility of peace and quiet my attendance at a spiritual gathering might bring, now vicious thoughts of homicide began to roil inside my brain. No COTA notice, no information concerning rerouting or how long this delay-breeding roadblock might stay in force. A few choice words were exclaimed to no one in particular.

After several minutes, I noticed the bus was turning off down the street, blocks away. No choice but to walk down there. But first, I felt I must alert other COTA customers to the crisis. So I did something COTA should have done but didn't and usually doesn't: posted timely and accurate information about delays and reroutes.

Caption Call: Can You Come Up With One for This?

I've seen a lot of interesting things in my years of urban commuting. I've more than a quarter of a century of experience now though I haven't concluded whether that milestone is a badge of honor or a mark of shame. Certainly, here in CARlumbus, Ohio, it's closest to the latter.

I came upon this scene in early September at the bus stop at 1301 N. High St., just across the street from the OSU Kroger store (the stop recently was awarded this blog's "Our Filthy Bus Stops" designation, as was its sister station across the street in front of the Kroger store). I wasn't sure quite what to make of it, but I knew I had to capture it on photograph.

So I'm going to try to elicit a bit of reader participation here, and ask you, dear COTA Criminologists, how would caption this photo? Please keep it above-board, over-the-belt-buckle, and within common decency; keep in mind that the blog's parameters in that regard are fairly broad.