Buddy System?
OPEN: JANUS FILE #0259
It started yesterday, with me furiously pedaling down Bardstown Road. I was trying to catch the #62 TARC, and I had only the vaguest idea of how much time remained before the bus would pass the section of Bardstown Road that was part of its route.
I was a little relieved when I reached this one particular stop. I knew that it was on the route for 62, and since I had not seen any sign of the bus, I was quite confident that I had not missed the bus. The reason I chose this stop was that there was a shelter with a bench, and I could take a few moments to sit and catch my breath.
There was also someone else waiting at the stop -- a young lady whom I will call Elissa, because that was the name printed on her name tag. As I dismounted from my bike, she asked me, "Do you know how much longer before the bus gets here?"
"Are you talking about the 62?"
"No, the 17," she replied, referring to the other route that covered that part of Bardstown Road. (Actually, the 17 covers all of Bardstown Road, but I digress.)
"Unfortunately, you just missed it," I said, because we had passed each other a few minutes earlier, during my mad rush to the bus stop.
To put it bluntly, Elissa was not happy over this revelation. She had to be at her job at Taco Bell within about 20 minutes, and it looked as though she was going to have to find another way to get there.
As she was calling her mother (at least, that's who I think she was calling), I opened my backpack, pulled out the collection of TARC schedules I carry with me, and started looking at the schedule for the #17. I checked my watch, then told Elissa, "You're in luck. There's another 17 that should be here within about seven or eight minutes -- assuming that the bus is on time, of course." (Never a safe thing to assume with TARC, unfortunately.) I consulted the schedule again, then continued, "And you should be only a minute or two late getting to work."
My own bus was reaching the stop at this point. As I put my bike on the rack and boarded the bus, I said, "I hope you make it to work on time." She thanked me for my help, and I went on my merry way.
A few hours later, I had completed the various errands that I had been running, and I decided to make a run for the border for dinner. I don't think I had made a conscious decision to do so, but I picked the Taco Bell where Elissa worked. (I will point out that it is also the Taco Bell closest to where I live.)
Elissa saw me as soon as I walked in, and she remembered me. (Well, I guess this ugly face of mine is somewhat memorable.) She said, "Hey, TARC buddy!" I had to chuckle at that one. I've been called a lot of things (some of them even true), but this was a new one.
I asked her, "Did you make it here on time?"
"I was a minute or two late." She appeared to be in a good mood, so I'm guessing that she didn't get into trouble over it. And it was nice to know that I had done something right yesterday.
CLOSE: JANUS FILE #0259
It started yesterday, with me furiously pedaling down Bardstown Road. I was trying to catch the #62 TARC, and I had only the vaguest idea of how much time remained before the bus would pass the section of Bardstown Road that was part of its route.
I was a little relieved when I reached this one particular stop. I knew that it was on the route for 62, and since I had not seen any sign of the bus, I was quite confident that I had not missed the bus. The reason I chose this stop was that there was a shelter with a bench, and I could take a few moments to sit and catch my breath.
There was also someone else waiting at the stop -- a young lady whom I will call Elissa, because that was the name printed on her name tag. As I dismounted from my bike, she asked me, "Do you know how much longer before the bus gets here?"
"Are you talking about the 62?"
"No, the 17," she replied, referring to the other route that covered that part of Bardstown Road. (Actually, the 17 covers all of Bardstown Road, but I digress.)
"Unfortunately, you just missed it," I said, because we had passed each other a few minutes earlier, during my mad rush to the bus stop.
To put it bluntly, Elissa was not happy over this revelation. She had to be at her job at Taco Bell within about 20 minutes, and it looked as though she was going to have to find another way to get there.
As she was calling her mother (at least, that's who I think she was calling), I opened my backpack, pulled out the collection of TARC schedules I carry with me, and started looking at the schedule for the #17. I checked my watch, then told Elissa, "You're in luck. There's another 17 that should be here within about seven or eight minutes -- assuming that the bus is on time, of course." (Never a safe thing to assume with TARC, unfortunately.) I consulted the schedule again, then continued, "And you should be only a minute or two late getting to work."
My own bus was reaching the stop at this point. As I put my bike on the rack and boarded the bus, I said, "I hope you make it to work on time." She thanked me for my help, and I went on my merry way.
A few hours later, I had completed the various errands that I had been running, and I decided to make a run for the border for dinner. I don't think I had made a conscious decision to do so, but I picked the Taco Bell where Elissa worked. (I will point out that it is also the Taco Bell closest to where I live.)
Elissa saw me as soon as I walked in, and she remembered me. (Well, I guess this ugly face of mine is somewhat memorable.) She said, "Hey, TARC buddy!" I had to chuckle at that one. I've been called a lot of things (some of them even true), but this was a new one.
I asked her, "Did you make it here on time?"
"I was a minute or two late." She appeared to be in a good mood, so I'm guessing that she didn't get into trouble over it. And it was nice to know that I had done something right yesterday.
CLOSE: JANUS FILE #0259