Winter and The Number 12 Bus

       In my first-day-of-college post, my grandmother had emphasized that I was to only ride the Number 13 bus to get to school. But when I got my job at Roswell Park which was a little further down Main Street toward downtown Buffalo than Canisius was, and I moved into my first apartment just across Eggert Road from my grandmother's place, it made more sense for me to take the number 12 bus route.

        The bus was my form of transportation to and from work for five years, and there were a few adventures that I can remember after all this time. There was the day of a huge snowstorm during the day – traffic was terrible from the moment the snow started. When I got on the bus to go home, we moved very slowly up Main Street, which should have been more passable than the side roads we would soon be turning down. At one point the bus driver threw up his hands and yelled, “No one is willing to give anyone else a break!” That made me sad – I like to think that blizzards bring out the best in Buffalonian behavior – but I guess it was not the case on that particular day.

        In another snow and bus story – our first Christmas season together, the ex-hubs and I got on the Number 12 bus which took us to Main Street, and then we transferred to the Number 5 bus that went north to the suburbs and the Eastern Hills Mall. We spent the day shopping for gifts and then bought an artificial Christmas tree. We were smart enough to not get a tree that would be too big to take home on a bus – but we did not consider the buses being so crowded that there would be standing room only – and we with this four foot box of artificial tree taking up lots of aisle space! The first bus, the Number 5, was uncomfortable enough – but then we waited in a sketchy stretch of Main Street in the cold and dark on a Saturday night for the Number 12 to come along, and when it finally did there were people standing on the bus all the way to the door!

        I thought the bus driver was going to refuse to let us on – but the people standing squeezed together even more than they already were, and the other people at the bus stop got on, and then we and the tree smushed in – the box stood on the bottom step by the door.

        I was sure my marriage was over – what kind of weirdo did not drive a car and put her husband through such things? He did not look too upset, however, and soon the bus emptied out enough so we could sit down and get the tree more out of the way. Once the tree was home, how it got there became more a humorous bus story rather than a the wife is just plain weird story.

        Golly, more memories are flowing in, so I'll break the number 12 bus into a couple more posts. Since this one is mostly about the bus in winter, I will add here that even when there were blizzards so bad that schools and businesses closed, it was rare when the buses did not run. And yet, as you might guess from Buffalo's reputation – we did experience, during our time at the apartment at least two storms which were huge enough to bring even the buses to a standstill! And you gotta believe, that's a lotta snow.

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