(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.
Thursday, October 13, 2016
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.
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.
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.
Our Filthy Bus Stops (an occasional series): The southbound No. 2 stop across from the OSU Kroger store (1301 North High Street)
A number of "jammin'" bus stops exist along North "High" Street, especially around the city's historical Skid Row district (known in old Columbus as "Flytown," now known as the trendy Short North, and chock-full of expensive boites, overpriced boutiques, and craft-beer joints that now cater to the area's uber hipster elite.) Despite the efforts of well-meaning, quality-of-life-citin' gentrifiers who want the area made safe and sterile for boyfriends and baby buggies, ragtag bands of resilient disciples of Bacchus and his liquid libations regularly still can be seen having an impromptu wine-bottle tip at several of local COTA stops.
Two weeks ago, I was coming home from a poetry reading at a gallery in the neighborhood and had to fjord a lake of puke assumedly left by the bedraggled wino leaning on a nearby wall at the southbound No. 2 North High Street and West Fourth Avenue stop.
While I took these photos last fall, conditions are still pretty ripe at the stop, which also caters to clients of the mental-health center just behind it, as well as shoppers spree-spending their blood money at the Kroger liquor store, having just sold their life fluid at the nearby plasma-prostitution establishment.
Here's some recent scenes:
Southbound view.
Overturned newspaper racks litter the scene.
Inside the shelter, a passed-out casualty of the afternoon's festivities snoozes on. Earlier, he had been chugging out of a brown paper bag with a buddy, then started to nod off. The buddy tried to rouse him to no avail. Eventually, a kind cop gently succeeded in getting him up, and Dude tottered on down the street--dazed but otherwise unharmed.
And, of course, here's the obligatory "filth" shot:
Two weeks ago, I was coming home from a poetry reading at a gallery in the neighborhood and had to fjord a lake of puke assumedly left by the bedraggled wino leaning on a nearby wall at the southbound No. 2 North High Street and West Fourth Avenue stop.
While I took these photos last fall, conditions are still pretty ripe at the stop, which also caters to clients of the mental-health center just behind it, as well as shoppers spree-spending their blood money at the Kroger liquor store, having just sold their life fluid at the nearby plasma-prostitution establishment.
Here's some recent scenes:
Southbound view.
Overturned newspaper racks litter the scene.
Inside the shelter, a passed-out casualty of the afternoon's festivities snoozes on. Earlier, he had been chugging out of a brown paper bag with a buddy, then started to nod off. The buddy tried to rouse him to no avail. Eventually, a kind cop gently succeeded in getting him up, and Dude tottered on down the street--dazed but otherwise unharmed.
And, of course, here's the obligatory "filth" shot:
I Heard It on COTA (honest!)....
A guy and gal, late 30s, talkin' trash about people they know, including women whose housekeeping habits are slovenly at best.
"Some women just like to live dirty," said the female conversant.
A few short minutes later, I spied Ms. Clean snacking on a bag of chips, then LICKING her fingers when she was finished. Of course, the bag went on the floor despite the presence of at least 50 COTA "convenience" plastic bags on the vehicle, including a stash right in front of her (she was sitting near the back door, where COTA keeps a cache of plastic bags for riders who might need to grab a quick one before decamping the bus).
Yech.
"Some women just like to live dirty," said the female conversant.
A few short minutes later, I spied Ms. Clean snacking on a bag of chips, then LICKING her fingers when she was finished. Of course, the bag went on the floor despite the presence of at least 50 COTA "convenience" plastic bags on the vehicle, including a stash right in front of her (she was sitting near the back door, where COTA keeps a cache of plastic bags for riders who might need to grab a quick one before decamping the bus).
Yech.
Different Day, Same Trash
I tend to perch on the back row of the bus, usually the right-hand side. Recently, two days running, I was greeted with this scene (photo time stamps do not lie!):
I did a double-take (and a double-shot) because I couldn't believe this was the same trash. But the presence of the Spanish-language newspaper gave it away....
I did a double-take (and a double-shot) because I couldn't believe this was the same trash. But the presence of the Spanish-language newspaper gave it away....
New COTA Slogan "Moves" Me to Tears
The new COTA slogan is "We Move People. People Move Us."
Unsure how much the authority paid some hot-shot ad agency to formulate this gem, but it already has emblazoned the meme on its PLASTIC BAGS!
Yeah, I'll admit COTA "moves" me; its lousy service and disgusting buses (and not a few passengers) inspired me to start this blog, which is nearing 5,000 page views!
Thanks, COTA!
Unsure how much the authority paid some hot-shot ad agency to formulate this gem, but it already has emblazoned the meme on its PLASTIC BAGS!
Yeah, I'll admit COTA "moves" me; its lousy service and disgusting buses (and not a few passengers) inspired me to start this blog, which is nearing 5,000 page views!
Thanks, COTA!
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