The future is: PLASTICS (as in COTA garbage bags)

Readers who follow this blog know I abhor the sheaves of plastic garbage bags that COTA feels compelled to offer its il-litter-ate customers, many of whom use them as seat covers, which end up on the floor and often out the door to add to our tremendous stream of plastic garbage. Here's a recent scene on the bus--though I have seen worse when I did not have my camera on me; on a recent day, I counted more than 15 of these horrible bags littering the seats and floor of a bus. More than one driver has told me they are tired of picking them up day after day. I cringe every time I see a selfish rider pull off a bag and spread it over their seat. My dander rises even more when the lazy bums just leave them there when they disembark. Riders seem to think, like many people these days in general seem to do, that "someone else" will come along and pick up after their asses. WRONG, PEOPLE! BE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR TRASH, AND PICK THAT BAG UP AFTER YOU'VE SPREAD YOUR ASS OVER IT.



While I always find this annoying to see on the bus, THIS had me totally incensed when I spotted it in the community garden next door to my building last month.




And no, I did not "plant" the bag there. A few days later, again without my camera, I saw no more than FIVE COTA bags littering the lawn of a building that houses doctors' offices at 18th Avenue and East Main Street.

COTA buses had ads that boasted about its new "green" headquarters downtown a couple of years ago. The authority won some kind of award for the "green" features built into the North High Street building it occupies downtown. I propose that the award be rescinded until COTA cleans up its act, and gets rid of these loathsome plastic bags.

Our Filthy Bus Stops: The garbage dump in front of the Health Department

I pass by the bus stop at East Main Street and Parsons Avenue nearly everyday. At that corner stands the stately, neo-Gothic pile that serves as the headquarters for the Franklin County Health Department. Its first incarnation was as the Ohio School for the Deaf, and also the Ohio School for the Blind. One of its students, a Toledo boy, who learned to play piano there during his residency in the 1930s, went on to become the world-renowned jazz pianist Art Tatum. Roland Rashaan Kirk, known for his ability to play two saxophones at once, also spent time there. In the late 1990s, the building was totally renovated and became the Health Department.



The building is surrounded by an original, wrought-iron fence and within is a beautiful, expansive green campus dotted with large, century-old oak trees. The vista, however, often is marred by unsightly trash left by patrons of the Health Department who wait at the stop on the corner for their bus.

Last fall, this was the scene--for more than two weeks!





Those potato chips did not disintegrate over the entire two-week period! And during that time, trash began to migrate over the fence into the Health Department campus.



Granted, the area abuts the infamous "split" where Interstates 70 and 71 intersect near downtown, and admittedly, just about any major interstate exit and junction tends to act as catch-all for all manner of garbage. These scenes were taken just across Parsons Avenue from the bus stop.






The stop has no trash can even though my experience shows the presence of a trash receptacle does not guarantee it will be used. Still, it would be nice to have the option.

Just a couple of weeks ago, I took this photo while passing by on a Reynoldsburg-bound No. 2:



So the cycle begins anew. Pretty ironic, eh?

Despicable COTA plastic bags have a use after all

Finally! Someone has figured out a use for those earth-killing plastic bags that COTA feels compelled to place for "passenger convenience" on their buses.

A few months ago, I was riding the #2 North High Street line, headed downtown. One of the resident COTA crazies got on--I've seen her before, once cursing a bus driver a blue streak for some alleged wrong--and pulled one of the bags off the rack, sat down, and proceeded to barf inside the bag.

"Awww, that's better!" she said to no one in particular, as several other rider/witnesses attempted to keep their own gag reflexes in check.

She sat behind the bus driver, who asked her, "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, why you askin'?"

"Well, I think you need to get off the bus, if you're sick," said the female bus driver, an attractive strawberry blonde who reminds me of young Sissy Spacek.

"Why? I ain't doin' nothin'," the puker spat, indignation rising in her voice (I've seen her thrown off the bus before for cursing loudly at another rider for no apparent reason).

"Well, you're spewing bodily fluids, and that's a potential danger to other passengers," the driver replied.

"Oh bullshit, it's in the bag," Pukey responded. "It ain't gonna get on anyone."

I have to admit the bag did hold the puke in check. I watched it dangle back and forth from her wrist, waiting for it to leak.

"I can't allow you to expose passengers to potentially harmful bodily fluids," the driver insisted.

Pukey got adamant, and said, "I'm getting off at the next stop (South High Street and State Street) anyway."

She did, and casually tossed the puke-laden COTA bag into the trashcan (thankfully, and not in the street, where I see so many COTA bags these days).

Now whenever I get that all-too-frequent urge to puke while on the bus, I'll just reach for a handy COTA barf bag!

Precisely!

I've bitched about the muddy rut that serves as a bus stop near the Spielman Center on Third Avenue just off Olentangy River Road. Apparently, I'm not alone in my critique of this barren and dangerous stop (see previous post: Rider in the Storm at the Bus Stop to Nowhere).

Recently seen:

While Columbus continues to boom with new construction going up everywhere, including at nearby Grandview Yards, this bus stop--an apparent nod to Ohio's pioneer era--is absolutely inexcusable.

Those Damned Plastic COTA Bags!

Oh, what's that I see lurking on the ground near the bus stop at East Main and Gilbert streets mingling with the other scraps of trash that don't seem to make it into the conveniently provided garbage can?

Why, my stars, it's a plastic COTA garbage bag like the ones COTA stocks on every bus, and which riders use as seat covers. This one undoubtedly was kicked out the bus by a rider exiting the back door, and now has a new home on an East Main Street sidewalk.

I did the right thing and put it in the trash receptacle. But I am increasingly annoyed with the plastic bag problem, and I've talked to a few drivers who also think they should be banned from the buses. After all, they have to clean up the scores of them left behind by riders who use them to protect their behinds from whatever they believe might be lurking on COTA's seats. And the riders who use them as seat covers are selfish pigs who expect others to clean up their litter, which is what the bags left on seats, then on floors, are.

I am launching a one-man battle against this social and environmental nuisance (see recent post Big Butt Plastic Bag Seat Cover Sweat).

Our Filthy Bus Stops (an occasional series)

The bus stop at the OSU-area Kroger on North High Street between Fifth and Sixth avenues is also one of the city's filthiest. Frequented by the drunk, the doped, the deranged, and many OSU students, it was built as part of the new Kroger store that opened in 2012.

Its predecessor, while unremarkable, did have an enclosed shelter. It, too, had a colorful clientele; it wasn't uncommon to stumble onto an impromptu Ripple party on occasion (the area still retains a hint of its past as Columbus's Skid Row; someone forgot to tell the street people that the area has been totally gentrified and hipsterized over the past 20 years).But what irked me about it were the numerous nearby magazine racks from which people would pull out newspapers, ad rags, and the like to use as bench covers, then leave them there, where they invariably ended up on the ground. The litter would congeal into a pulpy mess when it rained.

The replacement is a spartan affair with an overhang that doesn't really protect one from the elements.

It provides weary riders with a nasty-looking concrete bench that is usually being commandeered by one of the area's many derelicts. These photos, taken last fall, show the bench and the surrounding sidewalk. I tend to walk around the stains, being as they are of undetermined origin, and NEVER sit on the bench, which is a favorite sunning spot for the lost and the wandering.

I would think that the store and COTA might have a general agreement on upkeep of the stop, but apparently this is not the case. Some of these stains survived our admittedly mild winter. As summer draws near, the stop is once again a thriving social hotspot, and will soon return to the conditions I've documented. Is it too much to ask that a disinfectant scrub-down of the stop occur once in a while? Just asking--not that I'll EVER sit on that bench!

The Work of a Pissed-Off COTA Rider?

Whilst taking a leisurely stroll recently down East Main Street toward downtown, I noticed a street sign lying in the yard of a private home.

As I got closer, the sign appeared somewhat familiar to me.

On closer inspection: Why, of course! It's a bus stop sign that should have been standing tall at the corner of Monroe and East Main streets. Apparently, a disgruntled COTA rider pulled it out of the ground and flung it over the fence. The sign has since been returned to it rightful place near the curb.