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1 new Leos cap - $30 2 tickets to the Lions entertaining home opener - $60 1 digital camera for those great action pics - $300 Taking the public transit to and from the game - PRICELESS - [pause] Not! So, it's Saturday morning and I'm pondering my first experience with the public bus system about 19 years ago in Toronto. I was pregnant (about 8 1/2 months) and had just had a slight run-in with an 18-wheeler transport truck resulting in my brand new car dropping significant resale value as it hit the shop within weeks of exiting the lot. Oh yeah, simply brilliant! I was in the curb lane going straight through the lights about 2 blocks from where I worked and this crazy french man-driver from Montreal was in the middle lane. He thought it would be just the Best Idea Ever to take a super wide turn right at those same lights without first checking his mirrors (or signalling, for that matter). His big truck-size fender decided to latch itself onto my little grand-am-size wheel wall and rip the entire driver side of my car basically off its frame. Super fun. Let me tell you that I fully recommend trying to argue with a stubborn french guy who drives trucks for a living. Not. I'm surprised my water didn't break early from the stress of duck & weaving around his flailing arms. Not only did my water NOT break early, but my one and only kid decided to wait for nine days PAST my due date to arrive, and only then because I convinced my ex that if we "did it" we might induce the long-awaited labour. Anyways, my car gets towed to the dealership and they aren't able to provide me with a loaner vehicle until the next day which leaves me with the super fun option of taking the bus home from work. I didn't bother to ask anyone to drive me knowing the one random office guy that ended up volunteering would be driving out of his way thus getting his own ass home late for dinner, his clothes would end up smelling like my Light Blue by Dolce (which lingers and is really quite pleasant - I often get compliments on how nicely I smell), and he'd have to convince his wife that I was a harmless pregnant woman who got smashed by a frog (excuse the language - my sister in law is french and allows me to use this phrase without prejudice) and was too lazy to take the bus. Assuming my luck (or disluck), she'd likely have trust issues and kick him to the curb and he'd end up back on my porch wanting to stay on my couch for days upon end until he found a new place to live. I'd have to act like a counsellor since I'd feel really guilty about having let him drive me home but since I'm not the most patient person around I'd likely lose it if he started to cry. Then, my water would break and Nicole would end up being born early. Hey wait...... LMFAO. Back to the bus. Yes, so my first and last experience (until last night) on public transit... I left the office and strolled down to the stop. I mean really, how bad could it be taking a bus? You get in, you sit down, you daydream for a bit, then you get off. Hell and beyond! It's not really that simple. I got to the bus stop and discovered there were about 37 different routes that left from just this one little pole position. So after picking the first bus that came along, I climbed the steps (more like waddled since I was preggo) and handed the driver some money. And yes, all that sh** you see in the movies about having to have correct change is true. That fat bastard made me turn right around and get off again because I didn't have the exact amount of change required. It turns out that wasn't such a bad thing since I had chosen the wrong bus anyways. I decided I better educate myself a little more about busing so looked through the throngs of persons mulling around. After all, they were human right? Taking the bus was a totally normal thing to do. So, I made eye contact with the most normal looking person I could see and talked about the weather for a bit until it was apparent she was, indeed, a coherent and relatively intelligent woman. She was kind enough to fill me in on the rules of bus-taking, directed me to the right bus # to look for and even gave me change for a fiver. Now things were looking up in Juice-World! The next bus to come around the bend was the one that would take me to Destination Home. The doors opened and I confidently dropped the exact change into the dispenser as if I'd done it a million times before, and started to move down the aisle. OK. Um, hello? Mister Bus Driver? You're not only moving before I manage to sit my large belly down, but there don't actually appear to be any vacant seats. I recall when I was in grade school the driver wouldn't even take the bus out of park until you had planted your ass firmly in a seat and were looking straight ahead. So, imagine my surprise and yes, abhorrence when he just hit the gas like so and me waddling down the aisle with no seat in sight! Do you think any of the men, women, or children NOT eight and a half months pregnant would offer up their seat to me? Not a one. Bloody Hell. Needless to say, I believe I nearly fainted from the smells emanating, the germs permeating, and the stares of "normal" riders glaring into my skin. And since that point, I had never taken another bus. Until last night. Enroute to see the BC Lions pulverize the Eskimos by a score of 29-9, my BFWI thought it would be very adventerous to take public transit. Well, adventerous and easier & cheaper than driving... after all, he explained we could get picked up directly outside his place and be dropped within a block or two of the game zone. Ahhhh, men with their "blocks". But, I digress. Let me start with the beginning of the trip rather than the end. As you may know, my relationship with my BFWI is fairly new so I try to be my typical accommodating and low maintenance self. Ha ha ha. We depart from his condo and I stare longingly at my car parked just on the other side of the street and give it a little mental "I'm sorry for leaving you behind". We head up the hill to the lights so we can cross because he's not quite as daring as me with jaywalking over the 6-lanes that make up busy Hastings Street. After the walk signal flashes, we cross without incident and sit on a relatively clean bench in front of our stop, partake of some friendly banter mainly about the golf match that I beat him by a stroke in last week (LOL), drink down a couple of Red Bulls and smoke a Players Light Smooth. [Side bar - One may think I receive endorsement money from certain companies when I blog, but it's not the case...] I'm told we're taking the #135 which will make a few stops in Burnaby until barrelling straight through Vancouver to our destination. Sure enough, the 135 shows up, we jump on and Jer is ready with the exact change. We make our way to the back, past the extension doors with the moving floor and grab a couple of seats. I think we were on the bus for about 10 minutes when the driver announced that it was time for him to change shifts. In other words, I'm pulling into this mini bus depot station-place and you can get the hell off. No worries, I'm still in high spirits since I'm on my way to the Lions game - who doesn't love live sports matches - and I'm with a totally hot guy. We wait for the next 135 to come along as more and more folks gather at the pole. I imagine that there will be elbowing, jostling, and people running amok for the doors when the bus finally arrives but figure I can take anyone. After all, I'm not eight and a half months pregnant now and I know what this bus thing is all about! Our bus stop is in front of this naturopathic office that has decided to plaster all of their windows with a list of every single ailment known to man. I do some quick speed reading (um, oxymoron much) and learn that there are about 87 cancers I've never even heard of before but I'm pretty sure that smoking a few cigs isn't going to cause any of them! The last time I went to a Naturopath, he hooked me up to some computer that spit out readings of my heart, liver, intestines, etc so that he can gauge exactly what herbal remedies I require to be in the median disease free zone per organ. I pay him a lot of money, go on a strict diet, faithfully take the medicine drops he gives me, return in 6 weeks to find out I'm 3 pounds heavier and my readings are now off the chart. This, I tell him, is why it's so much better if I just live on popcorn and Red Bull. The 135 arrives and we make it the rest of the way to Vancouver without incident. I'm starting to have a little more faith in transit at this point, except for the fact that I get car sick very easily and was feeling slightly nautious when we exited. So my BFWI and I walked the "one or two" blocks (seven) to the Lions stadium, had a quick smoke outside then proceeded into the game zone. Sweet ass. The seats were wicked. We were about 14 rows up lined up with the posts. I'll give you a few game highlights in case you missed it: 29-9 as I mentioned earlier was the outcome. For a home opener with about 33,000 fans and $17,000 50/50 draw (for which I didn't buy a ticket) it had a little of everything to make it a wonderfully entertaining evening. My favourite parts - Rob Murphy got kicked out for putting the hurt on Braidwood (pussy), Barron Miles not only blocked a punt, but caught an interception off the stuttering Ricky Ray leading to our first home TD of the season, and Johnson had an awesome fumble recovery. McCallum was solid going 5 for 6 on field goals but some of his punts left a little to be desired. "WTF was that?" were the comments coming from behind us. Doh! Besides that Paris, Simmons and Geroy all were participants in receptions leading to our opening TD with Joe taking the carry over the line. Dickerson warmed up during the second quarter hitting some nice short middles, Jackson didn't miss a 1-yard conversion, and Buck saw some action at the goal line. Mmmmm, Buck. All in all, great game. Good times. We leave the stadium 3-hours later hand in hand, after a coupla beer and pretzels (with, I think, McDonalds Honey-Mustard sauce - can you believe that? They didn't even have mustard to go with the pretzels), animatedly chatting about the game and what the rest of the season will bring and head toward the #135. This time we were going about four-man-blocks (twelve) to get to the bus stop. We wanted to catch the beginning of the line so that we'd be ensured primo seats. Really. Did I just say that? "Primo seats" on a bus. As if there is such a thing. But, regardless, we get to the stop and the driver pulls up, opens the doors, then walks away. Apparently it's his break. We sit outside the bus, watch some confused people get on and flash their passes at nobody, then decide we better grab a seat. I opt for something closer to the front assuming it will dispell some of the nausea. I leave Jer in charge of the money and we plonk down behind this young couple that don't appear to speak english. They do this kissing / pecking thing from which a sound emanates that can only be described as a class of 6-years old taking their first ever tap lessons while chewing gum and popping bubbles completely out of sync. The driver returns and we take off. Since this blog is bordering on extremely long, I'm going to tell you 2 more things. We made a stop at this pole and some drunkard decides he'd like to have a conversation with our bus driver with one foot in and one foot out of the door, and the bloody bus driver opted to amuse him with long-drawn out responses. Really now. Aren't we supposed to be on schedules. The drunkard got on the bus and exited three stops later. Yes, that's right. Tell me you wouldn't lose it too? Anyways, the last thing I'd like to mention is that when my hot-guy BFWI and I exited the public transit and we walked that last block to his place, he asked if I noticed the bus driver changed when we got on at the beginning and we actually had a woman driver? I had not noticed as I was fighting the waves of nausea, trying to concentrate on what Jer was saying, and using a tremendous amount of self discipline to not throw something at the drunkard when he was on. As it turns out, Jer's pockets were still jingling and we had not only not used exact change, we didn't give the bus any change. Priceless. Peace out. Juice